Botrytis
by XAN-000
Summary: "Don't kid yourself." (...something's not right...) "You want them. No, you NEED them." (...something's not right...) "They shaped you. Made you who you are." (...something's not right...) "Who would you be if not for them?" (...something's not right...) "Can you even fathom that?"
1. Chapter 1

A burst of static tore eight year old Lily Loud from her sleep. She shot upright immediately, her eyes straining from the light of the TV as she frantically scoured the couch for the remote. She found it under her pillow. Swinging it to the screen, she hit mute.

Now fully awake – incidents like that made sure she wouldn't be returning to sleep anytime soon – she swung her legs forward, hanging them from the front of the large couch. Sighing and dragging her hand across her face, she tried to adjust to the brightened room, a far cry from the darkness out the window.

Wait, what time _was_ it? Late o'clock or something. Whatever. She immediately realized she didn't care, her desire for an answer gone as quickly as the question itself appeared.

A quick look around, finding herself in the living room, she came to the realization that she fell asleep on the couch.

Again.

Because _of course_ she did. Like it was a surprise. In fact, it was becoming an increasingly common occurrence. The living room may as well have been her new bedroom. She had no qualms with that thought. She'd rather be downstairs. After all, her parents were close by. It was better that way. And safer.

A shiver ran through her. She suddenly needed to use the bathroom.

Pushing her covers to the side, Lily exhaled and dropped to the floor. The clean carpet – vacuumed the day before – was soft and warm between her toes. The same couldn't be said for the creaky, old stairs. Her parents never seemed to want to fix them up. Just a little something, like some carpet. It'd make them nicer. Could maybe prevent the splinters they each inevitably got...

Reaching the top, Lily steeled herself, staring at the door in front of her. While thankful that the door was closed, the thought alone didn't help her relax any.

She hated upstairs. Five bedrooms, four of which were wasted, used for nothing, not even storage. Empty space. That alone was enough reason for her to hate them. Why her parents insisted on staying in such a huge house when it was just the three of them was a mystery. With the constant need for repairs, it hardly seemed worth it.

But she had _other_ reasons for hating the second floor.

Lily looked around nervously, finding that the rest of the doors remained closed as well. Sweating, her heart beating at a frantic pace, she moved about the hall, checking the handles and finding them all locked. That let her breathe a little easier. It was paramount that the doors stayed like that. It kept the voices away. When she started to hear the voices, that meant she had to take the pills.

She hated hearing the voices. She hated the pills even more.

She sped to the bathroom, closing the door as quickly and quietly as she could.

Turning the light on, she stood before the mirror, getting a good look at herself. She was a mess. Her lavender T-shirt was a wrinkled, sweat-stained mess. Her chin-length, platinum blonde hair stuck to one side of the face and splayed out in all directions on the other. Pale, oily skin shone in the light, contrasted by the dark bags under her eyes. And now, in a closed space, she noticed she smelled.

She almost looked sick. That's what people said about her, wasn't it? She was 'sick'?

A promise she made all the time: she'd go outside some day soon. Of her own free will. Get some sunlight, fresh air, a little exercise. She told that to herself, her parents, her... friends.

What a joke.

It was _always_ a 'maybe', though. But she'd have to, right? It _was_ inevitable, after all. Doctors appointments and all that.

Another sigh. Fixing her hair to something presentable, she splashed some water in her face, if only to clear away the grease.

Quickly doing her business, she washed her hands and stepped back out, making sure to turn the bathroom light off. She might get it into her head that it came on 'by itself', as they put it. Or she'd get a gentle lecture from Dad about leaving lights on. Neither was particularly pleasant.

Lily had only passed the first set of doors on her return trip down when she came to a complete stop, her feet anchored in place, her veins running cold. In her drowsy state, she forgot about checking the linen closet at the end of the hall, the one place in all the house she hated the most.

A light shone from under the door. She could explain that away. Immediately a number of reasons came to her. But what she _couldn't_ explain away was the shadow moving across the floor. Was there someone in there? No, there couldn't be. With the shelves – filled, no less – there was hardly any room for a _person_. If she listened carefully enough, she could hear footsteps.

She didn't like to listen to _anything_ carefully when it came to the upstairs.

She shook her head, clenching her eyes shut. No. There was no light. She was imagining it. A hallucination of her sleep addled mind. Actually, she was _still_ asleep, on the couch, right now, dreaming. Yeah.

...

God, she hoped she didn't wet the bed again. That was another talk she didn't want.

Lily willed one foot forward.

Creaking. From behind her. The room on her right.

A knot caught in her throat, her mind screaming at her to ignore it and return to the living room.

Looking over her shoulder, her eyes wide, she found, what was locked and sealed moments before, was now cracked open. The smell of a floral perfume eased it's way out, familiar in that she only smelled it from _that_ room.

She focused ahead again, her eyes sticking to the light under the door.

Another creak, now to her left. The soft sound of an acoustic guitar. She didn't even think either of her parents owned a guitar.

She hated the upstairs.

The other two doors along that wall followed suit. There was a thumping sound from the room at the top of the stairs, like a ball hitting the wall, and what sounded like the croaking of a frog from the one next to that.

Her body straight and shaking, her breathing ragged, Lily stomped on, ready to rush back to the couch, cover herself in her blanket, bask in the light of the non-channel the TV was tuned in to until the dawn came. In the end, she would wake up to find it was all a dream.

Reaching the stairs seemed to trigger another loud creak. The door to the linen closet swung open, slowly and smoothly. A silhouette stood in the doorway. Man? Woman? Boy? Girl? Old? Young? She couldn't tell a thing about the figure, their features obscured by the blinding light.

But she could tell that they extended a hand out to her.

Then they spoke.

"Lily."

Lily hated the upstairs.

Lily hated their house.

Lily hated her life.

* * *

What followed would remain a mystery. The next thing Lily remembered was the light of day, shining in her eyes between the leaves of one of the plants in the dining room. Her shorts felt cold and wet. Dad stood on one side, Mom knelt on her other, trying to coerce the kitchen knife from her tight grip. Lily looked around in confusion before noticing the utensil in her hand.

Honestly, with the way she was holding it, it was a weapon.

But she didn't want to be honest.

She let it drop, it's surface reflecting the sun as it hit the carpet. It happened. It happened again. Lily couldn't control it and she let it happen again. Only this time, her parents caught her during. The dread in her chest finally worked it's way free and she started to cry, hugging herself. Mom wrapped her arms around Lily's small shoulders, her own tears soaking the back of her shirt. Dad put the knife on the table a safe distance away and, a few seconds later, joined them.

Her parents tried to carry on the morning like nothing happened. Breakfast was the usual for a Saturday. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, orange juice. The only thing different was the small, plastic container next to her glass holding medicine. It held a blue pill, two white tablets, and a yellow capsule. Lily recognized the sequence.

She hated her pills.

Lily stole glances at her parents out of the corner of her eye. They looked at her expectantly, with a hint of concern. Usually, they left her well enough alone, believing her mature and responsible enough to handle the medication on her own. She knew because they told her as much. More often than not, Lily felt fine, and didn't see a need for them all that much anymore. A dose here and there was okay, yeah, but otherwise...

But that privilege – and the trust behind it – was gone now.

Her thoughts went back to her late night bathroom run. Did that even happen? Maybe, maybe not, but the memories remained, and the words of her doctors joined them. She, and everyone else, knew it.

All that was left was to admit it to herself.

Taking the pills in hand, she threw them in her mouth. The glass of juice washed them down her throat.

She sighed, setting her glass back on the table, her eyes closed. The room seemed to breathe in relief with her.


	2. Chapter 2

The office of Dr. Lopez always struck Lily as the kind of place for a man twice her age. It was the usual cliché that everyone knew. Saw it on TV and in the movies all the time: a little heavy-set; leathered skin, almost orange; snow white beard; thick, squared glasses; a jacket normally seen on a college professor that might've been around too long, complete with patches on the elbows.

It certainly didn't seem like the type of place to find the professional looking woman sitting in the chair across from her. With her light makeup, the pant suit, the short heels... Glasses were the same, though. And she had a streak of grey in her hair. Lily wasn't really sure _what_ she ever expected for her office. Something more... modern, maybe? She wasn't an expert on this kind of thing. Her idea of style was shorts and old T-shirts.

Hey, at least the place smelled clean.

Dr. Lopez gave her a smile and Lily forced one back. "Nice to see you again, Lily," she said, the faintest hint of accent in her voice.

Lily did her best to avoid eye contact. "Yeah."

"I only wish it were under better circumstances."

Lily didn't reply to that. What better circumstances could there be to see a therapist? She couldn't think of any. It wasn't that she particularly disliked the woman – she was nice enough, after all – but with their age difference, would there ever be any other reason to interact?

"Your parents tell me you had another incident recently."

Lily's fingers dug into the arms of her chair. The wording was weird to her. _Incident_. Why call it that, and dance around the facts? She should have just said what she usually did: _episode_. "I guess," she said with a shrug.

The woman wrote something down, nodding. "Lily, I need you to be completely honest with me."

"Okay...?"

"Have you been taking your medication?"

Silence as the girl gazed down at her sandal-clad feet hanging from the seat, focusing on the bows on the top.

"Lily?" Like a parent forcing it from a child.

Her finger traced the creases in the chair's fabric. "Kinda..."

More writing. Lily glanced up, catching the woman's gaze. No smile, no frown, only a look of understanding, ready to listen. Though she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being judged by the eyes behind those glasses. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Well, we can talk about whatever. Why you haven't been taking your medication, maybe what led up to your incident, something else you may have on your mind. Or we can sit here quietly, if you like, though I'd prefer we didn't."

"What's wrong with sitting here quietly?"

"If we don't talk, how can I help you? I want to help you, Lily. I believe that an individual can help themselves, yes, but only to a certain extent. Their point of view on things is, if not immediately, then in short order, tainted by their own bias. Even only one other point of view can help. Show you the problem from a different angle, show you things you never noticed before, bring up questions you never considered. So please, Lily, let me help you."

Silence, with Lily still tracing patterns into her chair, until finally... "The TV woke me up."

"What was on the TV?"

"Static."

"Are you still spending most of your time in the living room?"

"I wouldn't say 'most'-" Yes she would. She just wouldn't admit it. "-but a lot, yeah."

Writing. "Go on."

"I went to the bathroom. Washed my face, did my business, and left. Then-" She stopped.

Dr. Lopez looked at her, taking note of her stressed expression. "Then what?"

Lily swallowed hard, feeling a drop of sweat run down the back of her neck. Suddenly, she could smell that flowery perfume, as though it were etched onto the inside of her nose. "Then the doors started opening."

"How do you mean?"

"The four unused bedrooms upstairs. Their doors just opened by themselves."

"By themselves," she repeated.

"Yeah." Lily didn't like her tone. "Even though they were locked."

"Could it have been the wind?"

"No. Me and Dad always make sure the windows are locked, too. He doesn't like heating and cooling the neighborhood. And I... I just like the windows being closed."

Dr. Lopez wrote some more, motioning for her to continue.

Was this even worth it? Lily didn't think so. No matter what she said, it would be impossible to sway or convince the good doctor of anything outside what she already thought: that she was making it up. Imagining it. Hallucinating. The look on her face said she was already piecing together an answer to whatever she had to say.

The opportunity was there, to sit and say nothing, and she threw it away. Should've taken that offer instead of opening her big, bucktoothed mouth. At this point, she knew she was just digging a hole deeper and deeper. Suddenly, her own voice was starting to grate on her nerves. How did anyone else stand it?

"The linen closest opened last. All the way. There was a light inside and someone standing there. I couldn't see who, but they reached out to me and called my name."

At the mention of the closet, Dr. Lopez stopped, flipping back through a number of pages in what Lily assumed to be her personal file. "In a... threatening way?"

"No, more like... they just wanted to talk."

The woman's brow creased a little deeper with the flip of each page. "You've mentioned the linen closet a number of times before."

"Okay?"

Another page flip. "Let's take a moment to explore that."

"What's there to talk about? It holds towels, toilet paper, and sheets."

"Surely there must be more."

Lily shrugged.

"It seems to me as though it's the primary source of contention between you and the second floor of your home."

"It's just a room." That statement alone, she knew, wouldn't convince the woman. It didn't even convince Lily.

"Describe it for me."

"Why?"

"Please, humor me."

"Uh..." Lily scratched the side of her head, trying to think of what to say. "I don't know, it's... rectangular? Kinda big. Big enough for a bed, I guess. Maybe it was someone's room once...?"

"Why do you say that?"

"It's weird. There's a window in there. A window in a closet? It doesn't make sense."

Dr. Lopez sat quietly, tapping at her bottom lip with her pointer finger, thinking, Lily assumed. "Lily," she adjusted in her seat, sitting up straight, as though she expected where they were headed to go for a while, "do you ever feel lonely?"

Wait, what? Lily's expression matched her thoughts. "...What?"

"It's a straightforward question. Do you ever feel lonely?"

"No..." Was this what Dr. Lopez was talking about? A new perspective? It wasn't a topic Lily cared for, and with the words leaving her mouth, she considered that maybe, _maybe_ , she answered a little too quickly. "I mean, I have Mom and Dad."

"But they both work, right? Your mother is a dental assistant and your father..." She flipped to the front of the file. "Was he still in IT?"

"He's a chef now."

"Mm." She nodded, making note of that. "That's quite a career change."

"I guess."

"So most of the day, they're not around. At least on weekdays."

"Yeah."

"You spend the majority of your time at home. You attend virtual classes for school." To Lily, it felt like she was reading off a checklist of her life. With each point, her privacy felt a little more invaded. "And you're an only child. All that time alone in that big house. Have you ever wished that you had someone close to you? To relate to? To go to with your problems?"

"My parents-"

"Can you really relate to them? Do they go to you with their problems?"

"No, I guess not..."

"Do you go to them with all of _yours_?"

"No."

Dr. Lopez focused all her attention forward again, looking at the girl with all the seriousness she knew was about to come out of her mouth. That look always made Lily nervous, like she was about to get into the biggest trouble of her life. It manifested physically as heat, spreading all across the surface of her skin. The sweat wasn't far behind, and an excess of moisture started to build around her eyes. She looked down, blinking it away. It was impossible to match gazes with her when she had that look.

"Lily," Dr. Lopez crossed her legs, "we've talked about the stress and anxiety you feel before. About interacting with others, leaving the house, trying new things, the secrets you keep..."

Lily's throat felt tight. She couldn't speak, so she only nodded.

"As you grow, you become more aware of the world around you, and who you are as a person. You see what you have, and what you don't have. Physically, emotionally and on a deeper level, even if you don't realize, psychologically. I believe that, deep down, you see something that you don't want to admit."

"...What?" Lily asked in a small voice.

"You're lonely. You lack peers. Sure, you have family: your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, but no one your age that you are able to relate to. No siblings, no cousins, no friends."

Each was like a slap to the face, and all Lily could do was grip the arms of her chair tighter, waiting for the ride to end.

The therapist could see the look in her eyes, the sheen of the light on unshed tears. She held a box of tissue out to the girl, but Lily didn't take one, turning her head in defiance. Dr. Lopez sat it back down, closer to Lily. "While not common, it's not unusual for anxiety to cause hallucinations."

"I'm not hallucinating," Lily muttered. "I know what I saw."

"You've mentioned going into the rooms a number of times. Perhaps you're forgetting to lock them."

"No, I keep them locked. I make sure."

"Like the windows."

No reply.

"I think your stress, combined with the loneliness you feel, have led you to invent a presence residing upstairs – let's call them others, if you will – to fill all those empty rooms that are a constant, daily reminder of your lot in life. You're afraid of being alone, so you make sure you're not."

"You're wrong..."

"You imagine the doors locked and closed, but in reality, you choose to leave them open, if only a little. It makes the rooms feel lived in for you, and lets these perceived others know that you welcome them. That it's their home, too, and they always have a place there. That you're comfortable with them coming and going as they please."

"No."

"I'm sorry, Lily, but-"

"No!" Lily jumped to her feet. Her face was red, dangerously close to crying. "You're wrong! I don't need anyone to relate to! And if _some peer_ tries anything, I... I'll..."

"Pull a knife on them?"

That brought her to an abrupt stop, her eyes wide and her breathing shaky. She thought back to that morning, to Mom and Dad. The look on their faces as they tried to talk her back to her senses. The feel of her fingers wrapped around the handle. The blade shining in the sunlight.

And now, Dr. Lopez knew, too. She'd hoped it would be kept between the three of them, but did she really think that could happen? No, she knew better. It would've gotten out sooner or later.

"While I believe you're afraid of being alone, at the same time, I believe you're afraid to let people in. It's hard. You've been hurt before. If you allow someone to see the real you, you risk them finding out about things you don't want them to know, right? For example, our sessions and why we have them. I know you're not particularly fond of the former or proud of the latter. If one were to find out, what would they think? And that answer is something you're just not ready for."

Lily's attention remained on the floor, her eyes darting around while she let the woman's words in. She had to keep reminding herself to not look at her. If she did, she'd be accepting it as fact. An undeniable truth.

"You were afraid of what the presence could potentially do. It's natural to want to defend yourself. After all, self-preservation is the way of life. It's possible you just took it to an extreme. But we have no way of knowing for sure, and can only answer that question if you remember what else you heard and saw that night." Dr. Lopez paused. "Do you remember what you saw, Lily?"

"Then what about the linen closet?" It was quietly asked, the words barely managing to get past the lump in her throat.

"Hm?"

"The linen closet!" she yelled. The tears had started, but she held the sobs back. "What is so special about it that I'd imagine a light and a person and someone calling out my name?!"

"We can find that out together, if you'd like."

"You don't even have a guess?!"

"Well-" Dr. Lopez sighed. Not in exasperation, but in thought. "-the way you describe it, in terms of size, it's possible that it's the easiest place for you to imagine a complete presence. Or it could have been the work of a light shining in from the window and the resulting shadows cast." She attempted a diffusing smile. "It's something I'd like to explore further in a future session."

Lily fell back, sitting on the edge of her seat, staring at her hands. The tears continued and the sobs finally worked their way out. They didn't speak for the rest of their time together that day.

* * *

The drive home was short, and mercifully quiet. An old rock song played from the speakers on the turned-down radio. Dad tapped the steering wheel to the beat, occasionally humming along with it.

The old van they drove, which may or may not have been older than her parents, was affectionately named Vanzilla, and did it live up to it's name. It was huge, big enough to hold at least thirteen people, maybe more. There was always something wrong with it, though, and, much like their house, seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

Lily sat in the far back – forgoing what she called 'The Sweet Spot' – legs pulled up and arms wrapped around them, her chin resting on her knees. The tears had long since stopped, but her face still had a tint of red to it. She kept catching her parents looking at her in the rear-view mirror, and they always turned away when they noticed she noticed them noticing her.

Wait... Yeah, no, that's right.

She was thankful they didn't ask the stupidly obvious question: 'how did it go?' They knew full well. She sat in the waiting room alone for nearly twenty minutes, crying her eyes out, while they talked to Dr. Lopez in her office. The decision was made without her: she'd keep seeing the therapist.

Indefinitely.

Lily looked around, suddenly all too aware of the empty seats surrounding her.

Dr. Lopez's words rang through her head.

She buried her face in her knees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about the poor quality of these next two chapters. Remember, it's good to dwell and edit, but not too long! Otherwise, you doubt. And doubt will do you no good.**

* * *

Lily was aware in an instant. The soft pillow supporting her head. The feel of her favourite blanket on her legs. The firm, if lumpy, couch cushion that gave her a place to sleep. The smell of the living room: lived in, and faintly of perfume. Not the upstairs kind, thank God. No, it was the stuff Mom wore. She always spritzed a little on every morning.

She laid completely still, her eyes closed, her small form curled up at the far end of the couch. The living room was inviting. Warm and comfortable, as though telling her it was alright to drift off again. And, if not that, it offered to remind her of her dream. It had to be a good one. Both her mind and body were lighter, as though a weight had been lifted away and the tiniest seed of hope planted. Sadly, it never came to her.

Still.

Being asleep, then – poof – awake, just like that. Lily loved it. Why couldn't more mornings go that way? Avoiding all of the in-between, post-rest grogginess meant there was less chance of things running together and confusing her. She had never been a fan, and, on this day, like any other, it wouldn't be missed.

It was a weird kind of awake, though. If she had to describe it, she felt _too_ awake.

That sounded silly. ' _Too_ awake.' Was that even possible? Lily thought, recalling all those times she stayed up until dawn because of what she saw or heard.

Or _felt_...

…

She shivered. Oh yeah, it was possible.

Resigned to face the day ahead, Lily finally opened her eyes, exhaling heavily from her nose. It was bright out. She held her arm to her forehead, watching the dust shining, dancing in the light from the window. How late was it? She didn't bother checking the time. What did it matter, anyway? She had nowhere to be, and Mom and Dad were probably already gone.

She listened.

Silence.

No. No, they were definitely gone. And they didn't even bother to wake her up.

But... Maybe they _let_ her sleep in, happy to see her make it through the night. A night. _Any_ night. _One_ night, where they didn't have to constantly hear her footsteps, or the TV, at ungodly hours. Or worry about her nonstop throughout the day, 'walking around like a zombie'. Their words, not hers. Those days usually ended with her falling over wherever she stood.

When _she_ slept soundly, _they_ slept soundly, and everyone was happier.

Lily smiled a little. When she looked at it like that, it didn't seem so bad.

Sitting up, her blanket falling, she stretched, her muscles loosening. They burned, in a good way. Another exhale. Taking in the room, she realized... She felt good. _Really_ good! She couldn't remember the last time she was so rested. Had she changed her routine the night before? Because if so, she was going to do it more often. It _literally_ felt like a weight had been pulled off her shoulders. Or chest. Or both!

Who cared?! She felt great!

So she stretched again, letting the feeling of all that life flow through her as she fell back, her arms flopping to the side. "I think it's going to be a good day."

The white haired boy at the other end of the couch nodded approvingly, giving her a thumbs up.

Lily looked over. He was saying something, his mouth moving, but no sound came out. As usual. He may as well have not been talking at all. Maybe he _couldn't_ talk. Lily heard about people like that. What was the word? 'Mute?' It was weird, sure, but she didn't mind. She could understand him just fine. Talk or no, Lily didn't care. She liked him for him.

Besides, who was she to judge? _He_ never did. And she wasn't exactly an expert on 'normal.' They could be weird together.

"Hi."

He waved, his mouth moving with a greeting.

Lily scooted closer. "So, what are you doing here?"

The boy reached forward, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie from the plate on the coffee table.

Closer still, her knees together, her feet swinging freely. Lily laid her head against his shoulder, and he didn't shoo her off. She thanked him silently for that. She liked whenever he was around. He made her feel more at ease. Made her feel good about herself. Comfortable. Relaxed. Safe. Like there was nothing that could touch her. Lily liked to think that that was what having a big brother was like.

He took a bite, some of the chocolate smearing in the corner of his mouth, and pointed to the treat.

Lily giggled. "Your manners are horrible."

He stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth, stretching his cheeks, and attempted a smile.

"You a squirrel now or something?"

He imitated the animal.

"You look the part with those huge teeth," she laughed.

He nudged her with his elbow.

She nudged back.

"But they are good, huh?"

A nod while he chewed.

"Yeah, my dad's a pretty amazing cook. You could say his skills... _take the cake_."

He swallowed, rolling his eyes.

Lily laughed again. When it came to Dad's cooking, amazing went a lot of ways. When it was good, it was _amazingly_ good. Then there was all the amazingly weird stuff, which she mostly liked. And even still, the amazingly bad... "I wish I could cook like him. I mean, my scrambled eggs are _okay_ , but nothing compared to his. And hey!" She sat up. "Maybe I can learn from him and make you something as thanks!"

Confusion.

Her face felt warm. She turned away, embarrassed. The way he looked at her... "I, uh... I tried that recipe you told me..."

An eyebrow raised in anticipation, begging her to continue. His smile, wide, showing off his chipped front tooth. It reminded her of her own.

"It was good. _Really_ good."

He sat up straight, cheering silently, arms raised in a display of victory.

"The crunchiness of the sauerkraut complimented the creaminess of the peanut butter." Listen to her, trying to sound all fancy, like she knew what she was talking about. Might've been time to cut back on all those cooking competition shows. "And with the-"

The boy didn't give her the chance to finish. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. He rose to his feet, spinning and swinging her through the air, his mouth set in a laugh. Still, no sound.

Lily held her arms up, fists clenched, matching his victory pose seconds before. She decided to laugh for the both of them, adding in whoops and hollers, not even caring about the complaints they might get from Mr. Grouse. "I'm gonna try a whole bunch more stuff like that!"

His smile somehow got wider.

"Probably not for a while, though."

He tilted his head.

"Even Dad thought it was weird and gross. I offered him half and he looked at me like I was c-"

Did she make the conscious choice to stop? It's possible. Equally so that her mind and body conspired, denying the word life. Whatever the reason, she was thankful for it. She didn't like that word. Saying it made things too... _real_.

Things were real enough.

The mood was dead. Lily felt hot. She struggled in his grip, trying to push away in a panic. He set her to the floor, forcing no fight. She returned to her spot on the couch, making herself as small as possible. He sat next to her, a hand falling on her shoulder, his eyes sad and concerned. Lily hated that.

Silence, Lily letting his comforting touch calm her before speaking again. "I'm seeing Dr. Lopez again."

His head drooped toward her.

"Yeah. Mom and Dad are making me. They said it's supposed to help, but... I don't know..."

A furrowed brow.

"No, no, she's nice, I guess..."

A slow, confused shake of the head.

Lily sighed. "Whenever I have to talk with her, it's like my privacy is being invaded. Like I'm just a list of facts and symptoms. Like what's mine isn't _mine_ anymore. Like I lose a piece of _me_. Like _my_ opinion doesn't matter..."

He shrugged, not a care in the world.

"No, I can't lie." Lily thought back to the last time she tried that tactic. 'Try' might've been too strong a word. "It's so _weird_. She can spot a lie coming even before _I_ know I'm heading that way."

He nodded once.

"I know that, and I'm trying. I don't tell her everything," she looked at him, "but still."

His hand moved to her head.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." She wrapped her arms around his chest, her cheek resting against his orange shirt. It felt soft. "You're the best."

He scratched the back of his head, blushing.

"Don't be like that." Lily hugged him tighter, burying her face in his chest and breathing deep. She liked the way he smelled. She never wanted to let him go. Doing that risked him leaving her and never, ever coming back. She didn't want that. It wasn't even on the list. God, please, no, she begged silently, never let that happen.

Why couldn't this be his home, too? She often wished that. That he would just stay forever with her.

But that was selfish, wasn't it? What about what _he_ wanted? He had a family too, right? They needed him as much as Lily did. She couldn't afford to be selfish, to be so childish. He had to be shared, and she wouldn't be the one to take him away from the world.

Still, Lily was thankful for every extra second he allowed her.

"I'm sorry." Lily let him go. She sniffled, tilting her head down, and wiped her eyes. "I don't know why I cry all the time. Pathetic, huh? Maybe I'm just a big baby..." She looked up, putting on the best smile she could muster while trying to hold back her tears.

Her body ran cold, her ears burning, her heart skipping a beat.

He was gone.

The spot on the couch where he sat, where she held him second before, was empty, the fabric still creased from his weight. She ran her hand over the surface.

Still warm.

"Hey!" Lily called out into the house. "You still here? What, are we playing hide and seek now?"

No answer. Of course. Did she honestly expect one?

...Honestly?

…

No.

"Alright!" She stood, her smile uneasy, her laugh shaky. "Here I come!"

Lily searched the house the best she could.

Mom and Dad's room was locked.

The basement was empty.

Kitchen? Dining room? Empty.

The attic was still closed.

Bathroom? Empty.

The other rooms upstairs were still locked.

And he wasn't in her mess of room, thank God.

Lily slowly pulled her door closed. Her hand rested on the handle, her head falling to the surface with a tap. Her heart quickened. It was getting hard to breath. The heat was rising and panic ran through her. Her thoughts were on a loop, returning to the same conclusion. One she didn't even want to consider. She tried to push it out of her head, but it held firm.

Her knees felt weak. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, hoping for the shaking to stop.

Lily turned to her left, facing the plain, brown door at the end of the hall. She couldn't say she was surprised, face to face with the linen closet again. It was a prankster – no, a bully – that just wouldn't leave her alone. It made fun of her, telling a joke where she was the punchline. A joke she didn't understand. There was no sympathy for her ignorance. In fact, it mocked her for it. Taunted her.

Doing what she could to calm herself, she moved forward, uneasy, the old floor creaking under each step.

Was he in there? Why would he be? No, he couldn't be. There was no room. So, no, he wasn't.

But facts were facts. He was nowhere else, so she had to check. Had to make sure.

She listened carefully. It was hard to hear over the pounding in her ears. She listened harder. The house was silent. No life, no movement.

Only her.

Her skin was burning, and it only seemed to be getting hotter. She stopped in front of the door, letting the pure facts repeat through her head: it was only a closet. It held towels. Sheets. Toilet paper. Soap. No, it wasn't even a closet. It was less than a closet. At best, it was a fancy cabinet...

A deep breath and one step forward. Her exhale rattled her whole body. It wouldn't be so bad. She was facing it in the light of day, at least. That was something, right? Lily reached out, her hand hovering over the rounded, brass handle. It radiated a heat far beyond her own. She had yet to touch it, and already, it hurt.

Something compelled her to open it.

With trembling fingers, she started to close in on the smooth surface.

"Lily."

From behind. She jumped, turning quickly. The hall was empty. Where was he? Was that him? That voice... It didn't sound like it would be his. Seemed too...

Thinking about it, she realized it didn't sound like anything at all. Almost like the words were being written on the inside of her head...

"Hello? You there?" Her voice cracked. "Come out. This isn't funny anymore!"

Silence.

Creaking.

She froze.

A burst of static.

She screamed.

* * *

Lily opened her aching eyes, remaining completely still. Curled up at the far end of the couch, covered by her favourite blanket, she felt uncomfortably hot. Her arm rested on her forehead, and she absently watched the dust shine and dance in the light from the window. Her head hurt. Her heart beat a million miles a second. She fought to catch her breath, and the thick smell of Mom's perfume wasn't helping. Her clothes and the cushion felt wet. Sweat, probably.

Hopefully.

She was awake now, with no chance of falling back to sleep. Her body, tense, like a huge weight had been dropped on her shoulders. Or her chest. Or both.

Who cared where it was. She felt horrible.

Despite it all, she sat up quickly, her blanket flying across the room, falling near the fireplace. Even without it, the room was stuffy; the air, stagnant. She looked over to the other side of the couch, hoping against all hope to see him there.

…

No one. She was by herself. As expected.

Lily's chest felt tight. She reached out to feel the cushion where she remembered him sitting. Maybe the fabric was still warm. Maybe they talked and she went back to sleep. He gave her a kiss on the head before he left. Yeah. That's what happened.

She hesitated before letting her hand drop.

It was cool to the touch.

Her chest hurt. Was it all fake? Just another dream?! Of course. How could she _ever_ feel so relaxed? That wasn't something she was allowed, apparently. Lily could see it now, her own mind laughing at her, patting itself on the back for it's prank. Another punchline that flew over her head. It high-fived the closet.

Whatever the case, that dream was the past.

No, not even a dream. She couldn't think of the right word for it. Fantasy? Lies? Trash?

Her gaze fell, her heart slowing, returning to whatever counted for a normal pace. A small plate with three chocolate chip cookies sat on the coffee table and, next to it, a glass of water, condensation running down the side. There was a note:

 _You looked so exhausted, we  
didn't want to wake you.  
Have a good day!  
And don't forget your medicine!_

 _xoxo  
-Mom and Dad_

A smiley face was drawn at the end. Dad's work.

Lily looked back to the coffee table. There it was, next to the plate – that familiar sequence in it's small, plastic container. One blue, two white, one yellow.

In twelve hours, she'd see them again.

She fell back onto the couch, her legs hanging from the edge. She covered her eyes with her hands, which only made the deafening silence of the house worse than before. Her head hurt. She was as far from rested as possible. It got hotter by the second. Hopefully, the air conditioner would kick on soon, because she felt like she was going to be sick.

But getting sick meant having to go upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you take your medication?"

Hunched over in her chair, hands over her eyes, Lily nodded. Taking them was the first thing she did... That is, after sitting for so long, she lost track of time. Holding those small pills in her small fingers, her hands shaking... The pills fell to the floor. They almost caught in her throat. Knowing that she was doing it willingly was like another nightmare. That was what they wanted, right? For her to not put up a fight?

It all seemed to repeat in a second. And again. Once more. Her chest hurt, her hands tightened. She'd gladly give it up, the whole thing. As much as she enjoyed her time with the boy, she wanted to forget. What use was the first half of the dream if it was tainted by the second? But of course, the pills weren't meant for that, were they? They only did what they were supposed to: keep her 'stable' or whatever. And now, here she was...

Funny, wasn't it? They said don't look down. What was the first thing people did?

"Lily?"

Lily was tired. She hadn't gotten much sleep since, only an hour or two every night. Now the days were running together. The dark behind her hands, her closed eyes, called out to her. It's pull was strong, made stronger by the soft, comfortable chair.

But she wouldn't give in. She couldn't. It was dangerous. Sleeping too long risked losing track of things again.

"Lily, will you look at me?"

She shook her head and groaned. It felt heavy, her neck weak. She didn't even want to be there.

"If you'd prefer not to talk about it, I understand. We can wait until you're more comfortable."

"Can we just..." Lily exhaled, her voice shaking. "For a minute...?"

"Of course."

They did. Lily took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Dr. Lopez wrote. She was always writing. The sound of pen to paper was louder than normal. Lily didn't like it. Just what was so fascinating?

Finally, Lily sat up straight, sitting near the edge, her arms resting on the chair's. She had to remember not to get too comfortable. She couldn't fall asleep. Especially not _there_.

Dr. Lopez smiled. "Better?"

No, because Lily knew no one was forcing her to talk. She nodded anyway, looking down, trying to focus her attention on something – _anything_ – else to stay awake. She chose the woman's clothes. Lily liked how she was dressed: a navy blue pantsuit with a white blouse. It looked pretty in the office's light.

"You look tired. Are you going to be okay?"

Her bracelets were nice, too. They didn't look gold. Brass, maybe? Copper? Regular metal?

She nodded.

"Can you go on?"

Maybe they _were_ gold. She could probably afford them.

Another nod.

"Alright." Dr. Lopez paused, then wrote some more. "We'll go slow, okay?"

...She was so tired.

"Lily?"

Nod.

"Let's explore a little, okay?"

"...okay..."

Dr. Lopez read over her notes. "If you would, I'd like you to tell me what you think it was."

"What?"

"The creaking." She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. "What do you think it was?"

Her pant legs rode up some. Lily could see her ankles. "I don't know." Why were her heels so tall?

"No guesses?"

Lily shrugged.

"Could it have been this other?"

Lily looked away. Floor, wall, anywhere but at the therapist. That sounded horrible. 'Other.' By being as vague as possible, the boy was made out to sound like a bad guy. "No," she finally replied. They messed with each other, sure, but he wasn't like that.

Dr. Lopez nodded. "I don't think so either." Then why bring it up? To listen to herself speak or something? "This other doesn't seem malicious to me. Quite the opposite, really. Almost a comforter, of sorts. Have you seen this particular individual before?"

"Yeah."

"Have we spoken about them during a session?"

"I don't know."

"Hm." Another pause. She could try as hard as she wanted. Lily had no plans to budge. "I want you to understand something, Lily."

"What?"

"It's very important not to rely too much on these others." She sat forward, her tone serious, concerned. "You need to remember that they're a product of your _mind_. You may feel good in the moment, but they'll only reinforce what you're dealing with and _will_ serve to do more harm than anything else. You risk regression. We don't want that. Our goal is to move you past the need for them and to rely on a network of support from _actual_ friends and family."

"I don't have any friends."

"But you _do_ have family. And you _can_ make friends. Real friends. That's what you need to be striving for: living in the real. These others..." She shook her head. "They're stagnant. They don't grow with you. If you continue to rely on something that doesn't change, how can _you_ ever expect to? You don't want to deny yourself growth, right?"

Lily shook her head. Her brain felt like it was bouncing around.

"Good to hear." Her smile returned in full. "Now, I have a theory of my own. May I share it with you?"

Lily shrugged.

"I think it was the door that opened."

Lily tensed, gripping the chair. "...What door?"

"The linen closet."

That occurred to Lily, too, so it wasn't exactly mind-blowing. Didn't mean she liked the idea, though. "I guess. I woke up before I could see."

"'Could.'" Dr. Lopez wrote. "Does that mean, had you the chance, you would've looked?"

"Maybe."

"What do you think you would've seen?"

"I don't know." Lily looked down. "Something bad, maybe."

"Why do you say that?"

"The handle was hot." Lily remembered when the firemen came to school once. They said a hot door handle meant fire on the other side. With the heat and difficulty breathing, what else was she supposed to think? For all she knew, she was seconds from death and Hell itself was waiting for her.

"You've mentioned seeing inside the closet before. Do you remember what you saw?"

Just thinking about it made Lily squint, like she was staring right into it. "Yeah. A bright light." She preferred not to think of the person, though.

"And a person."

Dang it. "Yeah."

"Light produces heat. And generally, light represents the positive. What's good, pure, holy..."

Didn't a bright light at the end of a tunnel also mean being close to death? "Okay?"

"I believe that this door could fall into that category."

"How?

"It's very possible what you experienced was what I like to call a 'door of opportunity'."

That only served to confuse Lily even more. And the more confused she got, the more her head hurt. The more her head hurt, the more she just wanted to fall to the carpeted office floor and take a nap. It looked soft, comfortable... Nowhere close to what she had at home, though. Still, it'd do the job. And probably feel nice.

"This may be your mind's way of telling you, on a subconscious level, that you're ready for a change in your life," Dr. Lopez clarified.

"You mean, like... a worldwide trip or something?"

"No, no. Nothing as extreme as that. You're still only a child, after all." Dr. Lopez smiled. Was she trying to reassure her? Or was it an attempt to keep from laughing at such a stupid question? "But you're a smart child, Lily, and I'd hate to see your potential go to waste. Over the years, I've worked with all kinds: children, adults, young, old. Many were like you: afraid, or unwilling, to try something outside their comfort zone. And they were miserable for it. I don't want to see you go down that path, too."

Lily shifted uncomfortably.

"All it takes is one thing. One new experience. Going somewhere. Meeting someone. As I said earlier, something different can help you move past where you are." Dr. Lopez rested her chin between her thumb and forefinger and shook her head. "I won't lie. Yes, there are some risks, but risks help us grow. The good and the bad go hand in hand. You may enter your door of opportunity and find something you don't like. You may get hurt. Burned, if you will. But that's how life is. Not everything turns out how we expect. Or want."

"Yeah." Lily knew those moments all too well. They got tiring after a while.

They went quiet. Lily tapped at the arm of her chair. A random poke would be harder than the rest. It hurt a little, but the pain kept her aware. Every time she looked up, she caught the woman's unflinching smile, so she looked away again. And the cycle would repeat seconds later.

"It's a lot to take in, huh?"

Lily nodded.

"If you feel a topic is too overwhelming, then by all means, Lily, please tell me. I don't want you to feel that way. This isn't a place to feel pressured. It's a place to feel safe. At ease."

'Safe. At ease.' That's what she got from the boy.

…

How pathetic was she that someone imaginary could comfort her? She nodded anyway. Her finger fell again. It stayed there. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

She pressed hard. Her finger turned white, with a hint of pink. The nail shone in the light. "Do you have any kids?"

Lily didn't look up. She didn't need to. Dr. Lopez's silence said it all. The question caught her off guard, and now, she was working to find a reason behind her words. Call her sick – everyone else did, so whatever – but she took some joy in the moment. "Why do you ask?"

Lily tapped. "You have this whole 'concerned mom' thing down."

"I've been doing this for a long time." Her smile was in her voice. "I have a lot of experience."

"How old _are_ you?"

She cleared her throat, shifting again. "Any _other_ questions, Lily?"

The pace of her finger quickened. Lily looked up, then back down again, closing her eyes, making sure not to drift off. That wouldn't be much of a problem. Already, she could feel her face getting hot, her eyes moist. Did she really want to know _now_? Did she _need_ to?

…

What could it hurt?

"I'll remind you, you don't have to if you don't want to."

Lily shook her head. Her eyes hurt. Deep inhale, heavy exhale. Her face cooled. She looked up. "...Why do you think it's the closet?"

Dr. Lopez sat up straight.

"Like, why would I be _so_ obsessed with a closet? Like, why am I not afraid of the basement or attic? Dark, spooky..." Quiet. Lily had no problems with either of _those_. Perfect place to get away from it all. "Places like that. Aren't those what people are usually afraid of? Not closets!"

"Not to oversimplify, but children are afraid of closets."

Lily didn't like what she was hinting at. " _Little_ kids," she huffed, crossing her arms. Her behavior wasn't helping her argument. She knew that. She didn't care. "Which I'm _not_. _They_ see monsters and junk in them. _I_ don't."

"Children allow their imaginations to get the better of them and end up seeing what they want to see. It's not far from your own situation." A pause. "Would you say you're afraid?"

Again, on the spot, this time by her own hand. She sat back, sinking into the chair. It felt nice, warm. "I... I don't know..."

"Situations like yours typically have basis from past experiences. Something is given meaning because we allow it to be given meaning. The more we speak, the less convinced I am that your feelings towards the linen closet are completely negative."

Lily didn't react. She had nothing to say to that. Because she knew it was _wrong_.

"That's a good thing, Lily." Dr. Lopez smiled. "Regardless, good or bad, your feelings may be the result of repressed memories. These others may even be a coping mechanism. The only way we can really know is if we explore the topic." Dr. Lopez checked her watch and nodded slowly. "We still have some time today. We can start now, if you'd like."

Lily was starting to feel dizzy. With every passing second, it got harder to think. The way she felt, she could only imagine how she looked. Was this a test? It had to be. Dr. Lopez wasn't stupid. She had probably caught on by now. "I just wanted a simple answer..."

"I'm sorry, Lily, but it's rarely ever that easy."

Why did she expect anything different.

And why was the office suddenly so bright? Lily shielded her eyes and groaned again. She had a headache. There was already too much to think about. Adding something like that, a talk unfinished, to the stack, letting it run through her head until next time...

No, she didn't need that, and she said as much. Dr. Lopez nodded, understanding.

* * *

Thank God. The doors were still closed. And locked.

Lily sighed in relief, starting across the hall before stopping halfway. She stared at the door at the end. There were no lights, no shadows, but the temperature seemed to jump all the same. Fear of being caught in a repeat jolted her. She pinched her arm. It hurt.

Staring at the linen closet, her mind flooded with thoughts: the dreams, her sessions, Dr. Lopez...

What was the truth?

Deep down, she knew. And she knew she knew. The truth was, it _was_ all in her head. It was just a closet.

…

She took a step forward. Her heart quickened.

It was all in her head. It was just a closet.

Another. The floorboards creaked.

It _is_ all in her head. It _is_ just a closet.

"Just do it..." Lily muttered. Her hand hovered over the handle, her fingers twitching, sweat beading on her forehead. She tried to swallow, but it caught, her throat dry. "Just do it."

She acted fast. Taking a deep breath, pushing the doubt away if only a for a second, her hand shot forward, gripping the knob. It was cool to the touch. She turned it, pulling the door open harder than expected. It came just short of hitting both her and the wall.

And what she saw...

Was a dark linen closet.

Lily pulled the chain hanging over her head and the single bulb came to life. The light hurt, but she pressed on. What she saw was the same thing she saw every time. A step stool. Shelves of towels and sheets, shampoo and conditioner. Drawers filled with packs of toothpaste, razors, and Mom's stuff. On the floor were plastic tubs filled with old junk and next to them, what could only be described as crates of soap. Stacked at the top was their hoard of toilet paper. 'Village Pack', it said. Three ply. Lily never understood why Mom and Dad bought in bulk. Were they being thrifty? Prepared? Or did they just not like shopping?

Well, she didn't either, so whatever.

Lily looked up at the window. It was closed. And round. And weird.

After a few minutes, Lily came to a conclusion: it sure was a linen closet.

She wiped at her eyes, leaning against the doorway. Her head hit the wood. It hurt, but she ignored it. There was no room in her cramped head.

What was she _doing_? What was she freaking out about?! Here it was, right in front of her. All the proof she needed, the proof she always had access to. The proof that, God only knows why, she was unable to bring herself to believe: it was just a closet! What was it going to take for her to get it through her head? Did she have to move into it or something?! Because she would, if only to spite herself.

It was just a closet.

It _is_ just a closet.

...She was so tired.

The extra heat faded away. Cold air blew from the vents and she shivered. Her mind slowed. She made herself stand there for a few more minutes, looking at everything, and nothing. The extra time helped the sight sink in. She felt a little better.

…

She pinched again.

"Ow."

Still, she made sure to turn off the light. And that the door was fully closed. The click was satisfying.

Lily slept in her room. It was strange. Familiar and, at the same time, not. Her bed looked like it hadn't been touched in weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she used it, so that was probably the case. The sheets were smooth, cool to the touch. They smelled faintly of lavender. Mom knew her so well.

There were no lights. No voices. No bad dreams. No people walking in the dark that weren't really there. Only a restful night.

The room smelled like a science class, though.


	5. Chapter 5

**No matter how dissatisfied you are, sometimes you just have to stop fiddling with it and throw it out there.**

* * *

 _Obsession (noun): An idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind; an unhealthy fixation._

Sitting in the hall, staring at the empty linen closet, her nose dulling to the thick smell of clean, Lily let her mind wander. She recalled her short time as a 'Shuttleworth Child'. When 'obsession' was on her vocabulary list. When she first saw the huge, intimidating classrooms. Further back, through details that had outlived their usefulness, to before school. Her thoughts settled on Blarney the Dinosaur.

Most of Lily's earlier memories centered on Blarney the Dinosaur, and she struggled to find one that didn't. She never missed an episode, and always sang the songs. She had the toys, DVDs, clothes... She even had a Blarney costume. Though a leftover from Halloween, she'd wear it during the year when the desire struck her, further proof that that big, green dinosaur occupied her life.

One event that stuck out to Lily was the premier of one of the movies. She couldn't remember which one, but to say she was excited for it was an understatement. She feared – actually _feared_ – she wouldn't have the chance, and cried when Mom and Dad told her they got tickets. It was a little fuzzy, but she could remember the drive to the theatre, standing in line, getting popcorn, going to their seats...

And the letdown that followed.

The commercials made it look like something _new_. Or maybe her childish mind spun it that way. Whatever the case, what she proceeded to watch – and what Mom and Dad had to suffer through – was ninety minutes of scenes and songs from the TV show they had seen a thousand times before, strung together with a bare-bones plot and barely any new footage.

She still enjoyed it, of course. And why not? She was, what, _four?_ It was made for her. But the whole time, as she danced with her Blarney doll, bounced in her seat, and sang along with both the kids on the screen and those in the theatre, a part of her couldn't help feeling a mix of emotions: disappointment, anger, sadness, fear, confusion. She didn't like it.

Blarney was never the same. With each passing week, her interest shrank a little more, until it was gone completely.

Lily remembered when her class would sit in a circle on the big, carpeted floor around the teacher, going through their vocabulary list one by one. She couldn't remember what brought it up, but someone mentioned Blarney. Something clicked into place, and Lily's heart ached. That was the first time she ever cried in class. She smiled, trying to reassure her teacher and classmates that she was fine. She felt bad for lying.

Their hugs helped, though.

Somehow, Dr. Lopez knew about the incident, and it was one of the first things they ever talked about. She said her 'pastime' may have become an 'obsession,' and the hole it left might've been too much to bear. Then and there, Lily promised to never again let something take over her life like that. That her interests would only be fun distractions she'd never get lost in again.

The therapist smiled wide, showing her teeth, like Lily had told a joke. She said it wasn't that simple. That people in her 'situation' were known to act obsessively, not only in their interests, but in parts of their everyday lives.

Presently, much like with that movie, her happiness was ruined by disappointment.

One word repeated in her head: doors. She was always checking doors, and locks. Especially those five upstairs. Even if she knew they were set, even if she just saw it happen, even if she was _literally_ the one to do it, she'd check a few minutes later. She had to. That didn't mean she was cr- _obsessed._ She wasn't _that_ far gone. She was just being... cautious, right?

Yeah, cautious, not obsessed. That wouldn't be her again. She promised.

But since when did her promises ever mean anything?

"Admit it," she whispered.

…

Yes, she was obsessed with those doors. She felt a pressure from them far beyond anything Blarney ever had. They were the first thing on her mind when she woke up, and the last when she went to sleep. She thought of them while in the bathroom, or while she choked down her pills. While she ate, or watched TV, or did homework. She imagined what they were, what they could be, and what they could do.

How many nights of watching late-night TV, or staring at the pea soup-colored walls of her room, or wedged in bed between Mom and Dad, where she didn't have to remind herself that, no, the creaking she heard wasn't footsteps or doors opening? That it was their old, stupidly large house settling, because that's what old, stupidly large houses do?

Not enough.

Home, the one place she should've felt safe, was nothing but a prison to her fears. Even now, she saw them watching, waiting for her to let her guard down so they could finally strike. Four of them held nothing on a daily basis, and now, she had proof of the fifth. Did she _still_ expect something to pop out and... What, scare her? Threaten her?

Yes.

But _what_? It poked at the back of her head, taunting her as usual, hiding when she looked. If anything was going to drive her over the edge – God forbid – that was going to be it.

Rising to her feet, kicking past a pack of toilet paper, Lily paced to the bathroom. She stopped and quickly turned on her heel. There they were. Dr. Lopez was wrong. There was no 'door of opportunity'. Those cold, unfeeling pieces of wood lining the hall acted for their own benefit.

Her sense of self. Her happiness. Her peace of mind. Every missed opportunity. Everything she didn't have. Everything she wasn't. Everything she should have been...

All of it, held hostage.

The phrase 'you're your own worst company' came to mind. Lily heard that once, and it was only now she was starting to understand what it meant.

…

Lily's stomach grumbled. Nothing fueled her hunger like anger.

With a groan, she stomped down the stairs, stopping on the bottom step, staring at the front door. She begged herself not to do it.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't d-

She felt good it was locked, but not that she checked.

Passing through the dining room, Lily paused, looking outside. She'd been spending a little more time in the backyard, and that was where she wanted to be _now_. To feel the grass on her bare feet, the sunlight on her skin. To smell the day. Mom and Dad loved it when she went out, making a big deal about how proud they were. And though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, Lily loved it, too.

Thick, dark clouds rolled across the sky. The wind picked up, shaking the trees. A few raindrops hit the window. Had the nice, mild day chief meteorologist Patchy Drizzle talked about actually existed? Lily would have to take his word for it, having long missed her chance to find out. Because _of course_ she did. That was often the case when she wasted her day away pacing around the house for hours, arguing with herself.

In the kitchen, Lily made a small lunch: a peanut butter and sauerkraut sandwich with a cold glass of milk. She ate at the counter, watching the tree out back sway in the wind. Try as she might, she couldn't focus and enjoy her meal. Maybe checking the back door between bites had something to do with it.

For those wondering, yes, it was locked. Every time.

Lily checked the front door again on her way back upstairs, stopping just short of the door at the top. A gust of wind hit the house. She winced, feeling it in her ears. The windows shook, and that familiar creaking wasn't far behind. She faced the closet. It was still open, and as empty as when she left it.

Her hands became fists, her nails digging into her palms. She suddenly felt weightless. "Why do you have to torture me like this?!" she screamed, stomping her foot once, confident that she deserved to act like the frustrated eight-year-old she was. "Why can't you leave me alone and let me live my life?"

No response.

"Normal people don't worry about closets and bedrooms!" She kicked a pack of toilet paper down the stairs. "Why won't you leave me alone?!" She threw a bar of soap. It shattered on the doorframe. "Why won't you let me be normal?!"

Nothing.

"Answer me!"

Silence.

It was making fun of her, and she hated it. Lily went for another bar of soap, missed, and fell to her hands and knees. Insults did nothing, and she couldn't beat it up. So she did the only thing that came to mind: taking a deep breath, Lily screamed, giving no thought to the attention she might attract.

The air in her lungs ran out. Her throat burned, but still, she inhaled and started again.

What would Mom and Dad say if they saw her like this? What would they _think_? Would they hug her, sit with her, like after an episode? Whisper words of love and encouragement? The questions wouldn't be far behind. It was best they weren't home, then. Even she knew she wouldn't have any satisfying answers.

Her lungs empty again, Lily fell over exhausted, arms and legs spread out. Her face burned and her chest throbbed and her stomach hurt. A nap sounded nice. To just go back to bed and forget about everything – all of her disappointment, anger, sadness, fear, and confusion.

She rolled her head, looking between the stacks of supplies filling the hall. She could barely see it, lit up by it's single bulb. What was she even expecting to find? Secret spy buttons? Dead bodies? Horrible family secrets? Each one was more childish than the last. She felt embarrassed for even letting them cross her mind.

A few minutes passed before her head rolled the other way, towards the stuffed rabbit in the purple polo shirt next to her. It was the only halfway worthwhile thing she found. The musty smell of old papers stuck to it, with a faint scent of... something else that made her chest tighten. She couldn't place it, and that bothered her. She didn't know why, and that bothered her even more. The sense of unease it provided almost justified all the time spent worrying.

That should've been enough cause to call this a victory, but try as she might, she couldn't do it. Maybe talking to Mom and Dad would put her mind at ease.

Inhale. Exhale. The smell reminded her she needed a shower. But first...

"Sigh..."

She still had to put everything back.

* * *

Lightning struck, thunder roared, and the rain fell harder. The storm had been going for hours and showed no signs of letting up. On a normal night, that wouldn't be a problem. It would've dulled the silence, it's soothing rhythm lulling Lily into a restful, much-needed sleep. On a normal night, she might've let it. On _this_ night, she wanted it to.

 _Thud._

"Stupid..."

Instead, she let her head fall forward and hit the wall again. It hurt at first, but now she was numb to it. She found it an appropriate punishment. What good was having a head if she wasn't going to use it right?

 _Thud._

"Stupid..."

Music played softly from her computer. A song with piano and drums. She liked it, but couldn't place the title. She had it saved somewhere. She'd look for it later.

 _Thud._

"Stupid..."

Lily rested her head and opened her eyes, squinting at the light from her monitor. As usual, some of it leaked under her door and into the hall. Any minute now, Mom or Dad would knock, checking on her. They'd politely ask her to turn it off, saying it wasn't good for her sleep cycle. She loved when they did that, and waited for them every night she slept upstairs. It was reassurance, letting her know everything was okay and everything would _be_ okay. But tonight, it was only wishful thinking. Tonight, they wouldn't be coming.

They hadn't even made dinner.

 _Thud._

"Stupid..."

Lily looked down at the stuffed rabbit in her hand, turning it to face her. It's soft, fuzzy body warmed her skin. Light reflected off it's hard, plastic eyes, and she flicked one with her thumb. She imagined it having a mouth at one point, but it was long gone. Still, it smiled at her.

It wasn't much to look at and seemed no different from any other stuffed animal out there. Then she showed it to Mom and Dad.

How long since she saw them so happy? They sat Lily down at the dining room table, telling story after story about Bun-Bun. That was it's – or _his_ – name, apparently: Bun-Bun. They talked about how Lily always carried him around. How she cried if she didn't have him. How she always gave him two hugs a day. They laughed talking about her need to keep his ears clean.

They continued on, and Lily struggled to remember something – _anything_ – about what they were saying. But she couldn't. She had fond memories about a lot of her toys, and always having her teddy bear and blanket at hand – still two of her most treasured possessions – but this Bun-Bun was a complete mystery.

Then Dad started to describe the last time they saw him: nearly seven years ago. That's all he got out before stopping mid-sentence. His smile was gone instantly, his head falling into his hands; Bun-Bun, to the table. He seemed to age years in seconds. And Mom...

Mom just cried. No, _sobbed_.

They sat together, their heads touching. Mom's hand was on his chest; Dad's arm, over her shoulder. They rocked back and forth, Dad whispering to her. All Lily could do was sit there, watching, unsure if she should leave. Minutes dragged on, feeling like hours, before they finally got up. Dad glanced back, that sad, almost sick, look still on his face. Was he looking at Lily? Or Bun-Bun?

They went to their room, and never came back out. She could still hear Mom from the living room. Lily had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

 _Thud._

"Stupid..."

Lily flicked the eye again, the plastic audible against her nail. She may have just been a kid, but she knew that reaction wasn't normal. People didn't act like that for _nothing_. They remembered something. _Saw_ something. But what? With that horrified look in their eyes, it was... Well, 'not normal' didn't even begin to describe it.

Bun-Bun was going back in the closet after they next left for work. He was probably there for a reason.

Another flash of lightning. Thunder. Wind. Creaking.

A familiar creaking.

From the hall.

Lily swallowed, closing her eyes. "It's nothing." She could stay right there, her eyes closed, and ignore it. Not give it the benefit, because it didn't deserve it...

Again, louder this time.

But she turned to the door anyway. For a moment, it was indeed nothing. Then, a shadow came from the right, stepping into the shallow puddle of light on the floor. The doorknob rattled.

She clenched her eyes shut again, trying to focus on the rain and wind, the music from her computer. _That_ , all of that, was real. They were real sounds actually happening. There was no one outside her door. There is nowhere to come from the right except a linen closet that holds nothing but towels and sheets and a bunch of other stuff. Not people.

Why wouldn't that fact stick? How much longer would this go on? How many pills would she have to take before-

Wait a minute. She _did_ take her pills, right?

The rattling continued.

Lily's eyes flew open, her body running cold. "Oh, God no," she whispered. She forgot. Dad forgot. Mom forgot. They all forgot. Or did they? Maybe they didn't say anything so they could punish her for finding Bun-Bun. Would they do that? "Okay, no problem." She started to her nightstand when she remembered: her pills were downstairs.

In Mom and Dad's room.

The rattling got harder. Louder.

The stuffed rabbit hit the floor with a squeak, all but forgotten as Lily backed away. "Gotta be more responsible, Lily," she muttered. Her eyes closed again, her hands over her ears. Against the wall, she slid to the floor, making herself as small as possible and taking deep breaths. "More mature."

Three hard bangs on the door.

"You know better."

She didn't have a choice. She was going to have to ride this... _incident_ out.

Another three, even harder this time.

"Do it. Just like Dr. Lopez showed you."

The door shook.

One big inhale. "One... Two... Three..."

The doorknob moved furiously.

"Four... Five... Six..."

It was so hot.

"Seven... Eight..."

She could feel sweat running down her face and arms.

"N-nine..."

The wood strained.

"Ten."

Silence. She slowly released her breath, her eyes fluttering open.

The shadow was gone.

Lily fell over, rolling onto her back, giggling. The giggles tried to become laughter, but it was getting hard for her to breathe, and they caught in throat. She gasped loudly for air. Her hands flew to her mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle it. Any of it. All of it. She didn't want to disturb Mom and Dad. She didn't want to see them cry again. She didn't want to get in trouble.

Get in trouble

...trouble.

She was nothing but trouble.

…

Lily's eyes drifted to her bed. She felt weak, tired, exhausted. Her head hurt _so_ much. She wanted to sleep, and forget about everything – all of her disappointment, anger, sadness, fear, confusion – but she didn't feel like she could make it.

For the rest of the night, she laid there on the floor, awake and watching the door, listening to the storm and the music and the hum of her computer. She watched the dark of night fade, giving way to a dreary, grey morning.


	6. Chapter 6

It was cold outside. Wet and miserable. Thunder roared, and the wind picked up.

"Are you glad you forgot?"

Lily listened with her eyes closed. It beckoned her to come out and have some fun. A big part of her wanted to, cold or not. She wanted to feel the real. To feel the rain pelt against her body, drenching her in seconds. To run around and feel the mud squish between her toes. To be uncomfortable, in a good way. And after, she'd take a hot shower, and have a mug of cocoa, and take a nap.

Mom and Dad said it was too dangerous, though. She could catch a cold! Or the flu! Or pneumonia! She could slip in the mud and hurt herself! Really, what was wrong with being out there for only a little bit? They could supervise her. Heck, they could join her! A moment of being carefree, where she didn't have to worry about anything. That's all she wanted.

A corner of her mouth pulled up.

"Lily?"

But there would be no smile, because none of that was allowed in the day's agenda, was it? No, Lily was sitting in dry clothes in that soft, comfortable chair, stuck in Dr. Lopez's warm, comfortable office, under that soft, low lighting. The whole thing struck her as fake, planned, manufactured, stuffy.

The clean smell wasn't helping. She wanted to gag.

"Lily."

Lily opened her eyes. Dr. Lopez sat in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, her notebook in her lap, her hands stacked neatly. She looked concerned. "I wasn't ignoring you," Lily yawned.

"I know." Dr. Lopez nodded. "Is everything alright? You seem tired."

She was. "I am." She quickly added, "A little."

"Still having trouble sleeping?"

"...Sometimes."

Dr. Lopez smiled. "We won't be much longer, I promise."

"Mm." There was a pause. Lily blinked, and she lingered on it.

The sound of writing. "Have you been taking your medication, Lily?"

"Yes."

"Regularly, since this latest incident?"

" _Yes_. Why? Do you think I'm lying?"

"Are you?"

" _No_." It was a strict routine now: twice a day, at the same time, Mom, or Dad, or sometimes both, would stand there and watch her. She'd put them in her mouth, take a drink, swallow. They'd tell her to open her mouth, move her tongue, poke her cheeks. They'd give her a hug, and tell her how much they loved her. "You can even ask Mom and Dad. I take them _every_. _Day_."

"That's good."

Lily looked down, smoothing her skirt out along her lap, playing with the hem. "Even though I hate it."

"'Hate' is a strong word."

She popped the fabric from between her forefinger and thumb. It flew back, bunching at her knees. "Doesn't mean it's not the right one."

"Hm." Dr. Lopez shifted. The light caught off her earring and hit Lily in the eye. She winced. "Let's explore that. Why do you feel so strongly?"

Where did she start? That they tasted horrible? Or on some days, she felt like she was going to choke on them? That they made colours headache-inducingly vibrant? Or how about how they never, _ever_ helped her forget? The list went on. Sometimes she thought about it so much, it felt like an assignment for school. 'Why I Hate Taking My Medication, an essay by Lily Loud.' She dreaded anyone ever reading that non-existent paper.

But why start at all? These were the moments where Lily was in control of the course of their discussion. She didn't have to say anything. She could nip the whole thing in the bud, right there. They'd move on to another topic, and come back later when she was 'more willing' and 'comfortable'. All she had to do was say so.

All she had to do...

Was...

 _Say. So._

…

"They make it hard to remember," she blurted out. Lily may have been in control of their discussion, but how about that big mouth of hers? Yes, that too, and that's why she was going to have some choice words for herself later.

"You know it's not unusual for people in your situation to have memory issues. Have you been keeping your daily journal?"

No. "Yes." Dr. Lopez wrote. "That's not what I mean, though. This is different."

"Different how?"

"Like..." She hesitated, sighing. "Mom and Dad will tell stories, or watch home movies, and they look so happy, and I..."

"You want to be happy too."

"...I can have a hard time telling the real from the fake sometimes, right?" Her chest ached admitting that. "Everything they talk about? Everything we watch? I _know_ it's all real."

"How do you know that?"

She clutched the front of her hoodie. "Because I can _feel_ it."

"Mm-hm." Dr. Lopez nodded, writing.

"I can't remember, though, and I want to. I just want a few clues, but when I start asking questions, they brush me off like it's nothing! Whenever I don't take my pills, I can remember sometimes, even if things are fuzzy." Her grip tightened. "So, yeah, I am kinda glad we forgot."

The vents hummed. Dr. Lopez tapped at her bottom lip with her forefinger. "Bun-Bun."

The rabbit instantly sat at the forefront of her mind, and that smell of something else joined him. The unease was back, and her heart beat faster. "What about him?"

"Is that what you're worried about?"

Lily looked down, struggling with her skirt again. "I don't know."

"The last your family saw of him was nearly seven years ago, correct?"

God, she hated skirts. "That's what Dad said."

She smiled, probably an attempt at reassurance. "You were an infant. Your brain was still developing and not programmed for episodic memory. You can't expect to remember things that happened at such an age. That's just nature."

"But can't they help me?"

"Possibly, but if they don't, will you hold it against them? I ask because your description of their reaction to seeing Bun-Bun doesn't sound like 'nothing.' We've spoken before about how it's possible you experienced a traumatic event. Did it ever occur to you that they, too, may have gone through the same thing?"

"Like what?"

Dr. Lopez shook her head. "You're missing the point, Lily. There are seven billion people in the world, and each one has a unique story. At the same time, there _is_ overlap."

"Yeah. I'm a part of this family, too."

"You are."

"Then I deserve to know."

"You don't think your ignorance of this could be a blessing?"

"How could it be a blessing?"

"Not everyone can forget as easily as a one-year-old."

"I didn't forget," Lily muttered. "I know I didn't. I just... can't remember."

" _You_ may not be able to remember, but your parents do, and it sounds as though it burdens their hearts and minds. You're already dealing with enough. Would you really want more?"

"...No."

" _That's_ why they keep it from you. They love you so much, they choose to carry it themselves, regardless of the pain it causes, and see keeping you ignorant as protecting you. You need to tread lightly with this, because not all scars are visible. You know better than most how hard it can be for them to heal."

Lily's right hand ran down her left arm from the elbow, tracing the discolored line hidden under her sleeve. The first two fingers lingered at her wrist. "I thought you said keeping secrets was bad."

"I don't think that's what this is."

Her head whipped up at that. Of _course_ they were keeping secrets! Mom and Dad stopped mid-sentence when she came around. They looked at her with small, sad... _fake_ smiles. It wasn't normal, and it was scary. And she was taking _their_ side? "But they-"

"I understand your intent, Lily. Really, I do, but this isn't something you can rush." She shifted, sitting straight. "I'm not going to tell you that you'll remember everything you want, but the things you _do_? They're going to come gradually, not all at once. You want to be able to recognize these memories when they _do_ come, right?"

Lily looked to the floor. "...Yeah."

"Your medication will make that possible for you. Allowing yourself to get discouraged and jumping to these sort of conclusions will only hinder your growth. You need to focus on the _now_ to make progress. You've been doing well, but the only way to maintain that momentum is to-"

"-keep taking my medication," Lily finished. She was like a broken record.

Dr. Lopez nodded. "Yes. Now, I need you to promise me that you'll do your best not to miss any more."

A pause. "So that's it, then. No choice. I'm stuck with it, even if I hate it."

"Well, no, there's always a choice, even if it doesn't feel like it." She rested her chin between her thumb and forefinger. "After all, a choice is what led to us seeing each other again. We just have to weigh the benefits and consequences. With your parents, they feel they know what's best in relation to you and Bun-Bun. The pain is lesser this way, so they don't tell you. You greatly dislike-"

"Hate."

She wrote. "That's how you feel towards your medication, but you know if you don't take it in a timely manner, you risk further incidents. You don't want to experience all of that pain and fear on a daily basis. You don't want to force your parents to sit by and watch you fall apart. And you certainly don't want to risk a potential relapse. Does this sound right?"

Yes. Like she didn't already know. "Maybe," Lily shrugged.

Dr. Lopez nodded. "It takes a lot to do something, even when you're afraid. They have a word for that. Do you know what it is?"

"No."

"Brave."

Lily cleared her throat, suppressing a laugh. "...You think I'm brave?"

"I do."

"I'm not brave. 'Brave' is for, like, cops and firefighters. I'm just 'pathetic'."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true?" She turned back to the window. The rain had slowed, but she caught a flash of lightning in the distance. "It's either I take the pills, put on a mask, and hide from the world, or don't, and hide in the corner like a little kid, afraid of nothing and begging my head to _shut up_."

Dr. Lopez flipped through her notes. She paused, looking at a page. She flipped back. "How old are you, Lily?"

The thunder hit. "Eight."

"So you're young. Youth is inexperience. Inexperience begets ignorance, and ignorance, fear. You-"

"You said my ignorance 'could be a blessing.' Fear isn't a blessing."

"Ignorance in general, I mean. About how the world works and what tomorrow will bring. And that's okay. The older you get, the more you'll understand. After all, as time has gone on, you've recognized the importance of your medication. You take them willingly, albeit begrudgingly. You've come a long way from having them mashed into your food."

Lily felt her face get hot.

"That's growth." She smiled. "Even if it's something small, it still counts, wouldn't you say?"

She always had an answer, didn't she? And what was with that smile? Was she mocking her? Was it even real? Or was it something perfected after years of practice? "Taking a few pills isn't good enough." Lily shook her head. "You'll have to do better."

"You made it through an incident alone."

"No."

"You explored the linen closet."

These were accomplishments? "And who was I being brave for? Who did I help?"

"You." She pointed with her pen. "Bravery can be small and subjective just as much as it can be a grand display. As a child with her attention divided more than most, you accomplish things on your own you may not _want_ to, or sometimes even feel you can't. Still, you push through and do it anyway. Things some _adults_ can't even do. You don't think that's brave?"

"Not really..."

"It is, and your actions helped you grow as a result. Even if it's something small, progress is progress. Never doubt that. But I'm going to ask you again, to promise me, that you'll do your best to take your medication."

Quiet, Lily messing with her skirt.

"Lily."

"...Fine." She didn't look up. She couldn't. "I promise."

"Thank you." They went quiet, and Dr. Lopez began to write. How much time passed before she spoke again? "Our time's up for today. Try to get some rest, okay?"

Giving a hurried nod, Lily pushed out of her chair and rushed to the door. The walk across the room seemed longer than usual. Maybe the feeling of the therapist's eyes on her had something to do with it. She was planning something, and it wasn't good.

Lily's hand started for the doorknob...

"Oh, and Lily..."

Even with her hoodie, she shivered.

"When you leave, please tell your parents I'd like to speak with them." It was worded like a request, but it _wasn't_.

Yeah, _definitely_ nothing good.

* * *

The waiting room was just like Dr. Lopez's office: warm, comfortable, and fake. The only difference was there was nothing to do in the waiting room. No TV, all the books Lily had already read, and the magazines were pure trash. ' _Folks_ '? ' _Sixteen½_ '? Really? This was the stuff people wanted to read?

She'd never get those brain cells back.

Why couldn't she go out and wait in Vanzilla? She could lie across one of the seats and listen to the rain hitting the roof. Maybe take that nap. Mom and Dad wouldn't let her, though. They said it was too cold. She didn't mind that, and told them so.

They still said 'no.'

Lily glanced at the receptionist. She looked away from her computer, giving Lily a small smile and nod. Lily quickly looked away, adjusting her sunglasses. She had to look somewhere – _anywhere_ – else. She settled on the clock in time to see the minute hand tick. Again.

She groaned.

This wasn't the first time Dr. Lopez had called Mom and Dad in to talk about whatever, but it never took more than ten minutes. Now, they were going on twenty-two. Lily was starting to get nervous, and not only because of what they might've been talking about. The longer she had to wait, the higher the chance she crossed paths with _strangers_. They knew she only did so well around strangers.

She looked down, messing with the hem of her skirt. Again. She looked up. Twenty-four minutes.

The door to outside opened and an ominous rush of wind blew in. A boy with glasses and a striped shirt stepped into the room, and a large, well-dressed man followed. They both waved to the receptionist, the man stopping by the desk. The boy didn't, continuing to the seats.

"Don't," Lily begged under her breath. "Don't, don't, don't-"

He sat next to her. "Hi!" His voice was thick with cheer, like he was happy to be there. Was that even possible?

Despite being such an expert at hiding from the world, Lily knew she couldn't avoid it forever. That's why ' _Lily Loud's Guide to Maintaining Social Isolation_ ' existed.

 _Number One: Hide in plain sight._

Lily found a pair of sunglasses in a dusty, old box in the attic once. They had black lenses set in round, white frames a few sizes too big for her. They made everything so dark it was almost impossible to see. There were a few times she almost walked into walls or fell down flights of stairs.

Still, she loved them.

She exhaled slowly through her nose, pushing them further up, blocking out more of the room. When she wore them, she felt strong. In control. Invisible. She couldn't see the boy anymore, and that meant he couldn't see her either. That's how it worked, right?

Yes. Totally.

 _Number Two: Be quiet._

"Is this your first time seeing Dr. Lopez?" he asked.

Lily shifted, turning her head in the other direction, focusing on an unseen spot on the wall. She was smart enough to know not to say anything. No acknowledgments or greetings. She wouldn't answer any questions, or make any 'harmless comments.' No grunts or sighs. Not even any gestures.

"You'll like her! She's really nice."

She stayed quiet, her jaw tightening. She wasn't going to say anything. He was wasting his breath and his time. The conversation he was looking for didn't exist. It never would.

 _Number Three: Make yourself as small as possible._

Lily heard it all the time, like she didn't already know. She was small. Tiny. 'Underdeveloped' for her age. Teachers said it, and doctors, and not one holiday could go by where she didn't have to hear it from relatives. Except Pop-Pop. He never gave her a hard time.

Pop-Pop was so cool.

…

Anyway, their constant reminders weren't going to change anything. But she didn't mind her diminutive stature. It worked for her, especially in moments like these, where she could use it to her benefit.

"Uh, hello?"

Turning her back to him, Lily pulled her legs up, her arms wrapping around her waist, squeezing as tightly against the other side of her chair – away from _him_ – as possible. Her goal? Look small, and pitiful. Physically sick, even. Usually, at that point, people would leave her alone.

Usually.

He leaned towards her. "Are you okay?"

Her heart beat faster and... Was she shaking? She felt like she was shaking. Was it too much to ask to be left alone?

"Alright, sweetie. That's enough." The man. "She doesn't want to talk, and we need to respect that."

"But Dad-"

"Clyde," the man whispered, "you're making her uncomfortable."

The boy gasped loudly. "What?!"

Lily tensed.

"Oh man!" He leaned closer. "I am _so_ sorry! I-"

"Come on, son. Come sit over here."

The boy groaned and stood, moving several chairs down, leaving a gap between her and them. "I can't believe I didn't notice..."

"It's alright, Clyde. Everyone makes mistakes. You can tell Dr. Lopez all about it."

"Yeah..."

The boy sighed heavily. The vents hummed. The clicking of the keyboard continued. The clock ticked. Lily looked, moving her sunglasses enough to see. Thirty-one minutes.

"I'm sorry about that," the man said, his tone low. She quickly moved her sunglasses back. "Clyde can get a little... _excitable_. Please don't hold it against him."

Was it an exaggeration to say the man saved her? No way. He did. It was truth. A fact. So she owed him _something_ , right? What was the absolute _least_ she could do for him?

…

Lily shrugged.

The man chuckled softly. "I understand."

Quiet again. Lily suppressed a yawn, looking back to the door leading to Dr. Lopez's office. Still nothing.

What was taking so long? She wanted to go home.


	7. Chapter 7

xxxx xx, 2016

The rain finally stopped. It looked like the clouds were going to clear, but then the fog started to come in. It's really thick this time. The streetlamps are all blurry, and I can barely see the other side of the street from my bedroom window.

XXXXX

I don't want to do this. I'm too tired and I have a headache and my chest feels weird again. So just a short entry today.

Had an appointment with Dr. Lopez today. Told her all about looking through the linen closet and Bun-Bun and all that. Basically, she said 'small is significant'. 'Progress is progress'. That I was 'brave'. It didn't feel like she meant it, though. She didn't even believe me when I told her about how Mom and Dad were acting. But she kept smiling like always. Kind of felt like she was making fun of me.

Then she talked with them for 65 minutes. I know that's how long it took because I counted. Now...

I don't know. Something's not right.

X XXX'X XX XXXX XXXXX XXX.

I don't want to do this, but I know you can't always get what you want.


	8. Chapter 8

"One, two, three, four, five..."

There were a lot of things Lily hated about her situation. In no particular order: her 'faulty senses,' her memory, her pills, the secrets Mom and Dad were keeping from her that definitely existed and totally were _not_ a product of her imagination.

Turn, open, close.

But it was the circumstantial responsibility that came along with it that held a special place.

Despite being the child, Lily knew _she_ was in charge of the course of any given day. What they did, where they went, and when depended solely on _her_ and how _she_ was feeling. A single bad thought crossing her mind could derail even the best laid plans and bring inconveniences for all of them.

Like now.

She told – no, _begged_ – herself not to look back. She did anyway, and one of those thoughts snuck in. That's how she took over the bathroom. That's why she was focused on the doorknob, shining gold in the light, her hand moving robotically. She couldn't stop, tapping at it again and again, clockwise from the top, counting off the four points under her breath before touching the center. Gripping it, she twisted and pulled. The door cracked open.

Again.

And with another failure to get it right, the room got warmer.

Closing it, listening for the click, Lily wondered how much time she had already wasted. Too much, probably. But any amount was too much. She _wanted_ to stop. To pull away, open the door, leave. Cross the gauntlet lining the hallway, her head held high, and lead her feet to carpet again. To lie down and relieve the stress from her numb toes and sore knees and aching back and just sleep and forget about everything. After all, she was in control, right?

She should've been, but she looked back. Now, it was about what her _head_ wanted. It was the warden to this prison. She couldn't leave, couldn't calm down, until _it_ thought she got it right.

Drawing a breath, she let it out slowly and started again. "One, two, three..."

'Right'. Could that be any more vague? What did that even mean? What did she expect to happen? For the door to lock? Well, it wouldn't because it couldn't, and she knew that. Unlike most doors in the house, the bathroom's didn't have a lock, and she could never remember a time where it did.

But she stood there, stuck, doing it anyway, because she had to.

How she wished the white-haired boy was there. _He_ could stop her. _He_ could pull her away. _He_ could convince her that everything was alright. They'd hug, and he wouldn't push or brush or shoo her away.

Imaginary comfort? Again? That wasn't 'brave'. It was pathetic.

That was better than nothing.

A knock at the door. "Lily?" Mom.

Turn, open, close.

"Honey?"

Again, whispering. "One, two, three..."

"Is everything okay?"

No, everything was _not_ okay, and Lily didn't know why and she hated that. But it wasn't like they cared. "Yes."

"You've been in there for a while." Like she didn't know. "Do you need any help? Do you need me to come in?"

Yes, but she wouldn't. "...No, please." Turn, open, close.

"Okay. Are you..." She hesitated. "Do you think you'll be done soon?"

"...I don't know," Lily answered honestly.

A pause. "If you need any help, call for us, okay? Your father and I will be downstairs."

An empty offer. "Okay."

"When you're done, please come find us. We'd like to talk to you."

Lily knit her eyebrows, starting again "One, two..."

A week.

It'd been nearly a week since Lily found Bun-Bun. That was nearly a week of Mom and Dad brushing her off or protecting her or whatever other lame excuse Dr. Lopez wanted to give. Nearly a week since they gave her a real smile. Or a hug filled with warmth. Or didn't just see her, but _really_ looked at her. Or said 'good morning' or 'good night' or 'I love you' without mumbling it like it was a bother.

That was nearly a week of stress and fear and worry Lily didn't need as she navigated the thick, oppressive atmosphere at home. Nearly a week of her barely eating or sleeping. Of them apparently not noticing. All because she made one mistake she didn't know she was making.

Ignorance wasn't a 'blessing'. 'Ignorance begets fear,' and both _sucked_.

…

Turn, open, close.

Nearly a week, but all it took was an hour with Dr. Lopez, and _now_ they wanted to talk? "Am I in trouble?"

"No!" The door shook. Lily flinched, taking a step back, and Mom breathed. "No, honey. No. You're not in trouble. Why would you think that?"

Why wouldn't she? "Because you guys keep looking at me." That was the worst of it. She missed it, but now they wouldn't _stop_. She kept catching them watching her, their eyes cold and expressions heavy. They were always slow to look away, and never said anything. "Did I do something wrong?"

"It's nothing you did. Your father and I-"

Blamed her. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for anything, honey."

While it was her fault... "I didn't mean to."

She sighed. "Come downstairs and we can talk about it."

"...All of us?"

"Together."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Lily swallowed, staring at the doorknob. Mom and Dad's promises _were_ always worth more than her own, and now, they were waiting for her on the other side. That meant answers to questions that had weighed her down for nearly a week. Freedom from her own head, if only for a little bit. From being stuck... until next time.

Temporary relief.

But temporary relief was still relief, right? And she could have it. All she had to do was reach out and open the door.

Do it.

Open the door.

Lily's hand hovered over the fixture. She shivered, beads of sweat running down her back. Her chest ached, invisible needles sticking into her heart. She wanted to talk – she really, really did – and it sounded like Mom and Dad did, too. But...

But what if they didn't? Not really? What if it was more of the same? More fake, sad smiles. Cold words. Lies. Secrets. Brush. Push. Shoo. Nothing would change.

What if she got in trouble?

She wouldn't. Mom said she didn't do anything wrong! She promised. That should've been good enough. Why was she worrying? What was she afraid of?

But-

Just stop already.

But...

Open the door and go talk.

Lily wanted to. She really, _really_ wanted to.

So bad.

…

She tapped. "One, two, three, four, five." A whisper she nearly choked on.

Mom sighed again.

Lily's hands shot to her chest. She pulled at her hoodie, stretching it, letting the cool air wash over her with the hope it would help ease her panic, slow her heart. The needles dug deeper with each beat, the pounding loud in her ears. Her head throbbed and her vision shook. She almost didn't notice Mom walk away.

Her knees felt weak, and she felt like she was going to be sick. Why did she do that?

Because she had to.

 _No_ , she _didn't_. No matter how many times she tried, it _wasn't_ going to lock.

And she knew that.

Then why didn't she just stop?

She couldn't. Not until it was right.

Right _how_ , again?

She didn't know.

Then stop.

She couldn't.

Why?

Because Mom and Dad might-

They might _what_?

Mom and Dad might... They might...

" _And the littlest one is just_ crying _to be thrown out._ " Mom again, her voice echoing.

"Uh oh. Sounds like they're talking about you again."

Lily's body ran cold, her heart skipping a beat. There, in the corner of her eye, was the small girl. A baby, really, barely more than a year old, with a tuft of blonde hair shooting up from the top of her head. "No, they're not."

"Yes they are. W̴e̴ both know it."

"One, two, three, four, five," she whispered.

Her grip was wrapped tight around Bun-Bun's ears, his body hanging, his legs brushing the floor. "But unlike you, _I_ know _lots_ of things, remember?"

Turn, open, close.

With her free hand, she tugged at Lily's skirt. "Remember?"

Why was the room suddenly so bright? It hurt her eyes. "Go away," she said, an edge to her voice.

"Like, why you won't leave the doors alone. What you're afraid of, and _why_." Her voice was Lily's, filled with all of the confidence she lacked. "What Mom and Dad want to talk about, and what they _don't_."

"I don't care," she lied. " _Go away_."

The girl's smile, wide, showed off her one big tooth. It reminded Lily of her own. "You're not curious?"

Yes. "No."

"I could tell you, you know."

"I. Don't. Care."

"Or..." She walked across the room, Bun-Bun dragging across the tile behind her, and stopped next to the grate under the sink. Despite her best efforts, Lily's eyes followed her. "W͠è̴ can find out together."

"I'm not eavesdropping like some little kid."

The girl scoffed. "You _are_ a little kid, and _yes_ , ẃę are."

"We shouldn't."

"But w̴e're̵ going to anyway, right?"

…

" _I just don't know about that girl,"_ Mom's continued.

Dad coughed, clearing his throat. " _Getting cold feet?_ "

" _No._ "

" _Alright, then. What's the matter with her?_ "

" _I don't know._ " Mom sighed." _She gives me a bad feeling._ "

The little girl hummed. "Who do you think she's talking about?"

"It's none of our business."

"You're part of this family, too."

"I know."

" _Are you afraid she's going to do something?_ "

" _It's... I feel uneasy around her._ "

"Then you deserve to know about _this_ , right?"

Several responses came to Lily's mind, but she swallowed them all.

"Right?" Her smile got bigger, the word dragging on longer than seemed possible.

" _I think we're plenty used to feeling uneasy,_ " Dad said. More coughing. Hacking. His voice strained. " _It's no different from the usual._ "

" _I know, but this time, it_ does _feel_ _different._ "

" _Woman's intuition?"_

" _Something like that._ "

" _So... What?_ "

" _We can get rid of her and find another. There was one I was looking at that I really liked._ "

"Listen to that. While you're up _here_ , playing with another door, they're down _there_ talking about getting rid of _someone_. I wonder if _that's_ what they wanted to talk about." The girl paused. "You didn't answer my question. Who do you think she's talking about?"

The little girl, hopefully. How Lily wished they would get rid of the little girl.

"Mom said 'littlest.'" She tapped her chin. "I mean, besides m̸̢͞e̡͞͝, can't get much smaller than _you_ , right?"

They could do it, too, all three of them, together, with one blue, two white, one yellow. Yeah. All she had to do was open. The. Door.

" _But it took us so long to find her._ "

" _I know honey, but we can do better. I know we can._ "

" _I guess._ "

"And why would it be anyone else? I mean, look at you." She returned to Lily. "You're an absolute mess."

Lily turned, fell back against the door, put a hand to her forehead, closed her eyes. "I'm sick."

"That's a little generous, don't you think? This kind of thing doesn't happen to _n̸̕͘o̴̶͡r̛͟͠m͠a͜l̡̡͏_ people. I like that word. No͠ŕma͟l. _N͏͏o҉ŗm̛͜͢ą́҉l̡_." She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Don't you?"

"I'm sick," she repeated.

"You're d̴̡͜ȩ͏f́e̡ç͟ţive̛. Nothing but a pit they throw their time and money into."

No longer needles, but an entire knife, digging deeper.

The girl tugged at her skirt again. "Think about it. I mean, I want you to _really_ use that Shuttleworth head of yours and think about it. Is it that much of a stretch to think they'd want to get rid of you?"

She was so tired. "Yes."

"No it's not," she laughed. Another tug. " _I_ think it makes perfect sense, and so would anyone else. You know, if they even knew you existed. Or cared, for that matter."

So hot. "They wouldn't get rid of me. They love me."

"Don't kid yourself. They'd get rid of you, just like-" She snapped. " _that_."

"No they wouldn't."

Tug. "Yes they would."

" _And you heard Dr. Lopez. She said she'd help us._ "

Lily's knees gave out and she hit the floor. "No!"

" _YES!_ They would, you _idiot_! Listen to them! Hey!" She slapped Lily, getting her attention again, and pointed hard to the grate. " _Yes. They. Would._ And with help from Dr. Lopez, it'd be a piece of cake. All it takes is one recommendation from someone like her, and they ship you off to the c̶̢̀r͏̀á͘z͏ý͡҉ house."

Her cheek stung, her eyes burned. "Don't say that word."

"Which one? C̷̨̧r̛͟a̸̢̧͡z̸̸͡y̧̡͟͠? D̕͠e͞͠f̢̀́e̢̛͘c̢̕t҉̀̕ì̵́͜v̴̶͢͡è̴̀́͜? Why not? It's what you are. What was it Pop-Pop said the lily is supposed to represent?" She held her finger to her chin for a few seconds, as if thinking. "Oh yeah! Hope, purity, joy. Sounds nice, doesn't it? But you're _none_ of those things," she hissed. "No, you're just a b́͠ļ͞i̧g͏h̛t̢̛͜ on your family."

Why was it so hard to breathe?

"Admit it, they'd be better off without you."

" _You already know when you want to do it, I guess._ "

Mom hesitated. " _Soon, I know._ "

" _I was hoping it'd work out._ "

" _Me too, honey, but sometimes it just doesn't._ "

"See? They've been tolerating you, just _waiting_ for the go ahead from Dr. Lopez, and I know why. Remember, I know everything. Or _we_ know everything, I guess." She scoffed. "But mostly me, since you're so _useless_." She dropped Bun-Bun into Lily's hand, forcing her fingers closed around him. His soft, fuzzy form warmed her skin and that familiar smell was in the air. "Here, hold this for me, okay?"

Lily's grip tightened, and so did the pressure around her throat. "...Why won't you leave me alone."

"Because I want to hear you admit it. That you're messed up, and you messed up. That you're ready to deal with the consequences like a big girl."

The blade in Lily's chest twisted, and light reflected off the kitchen knife in her hand, hitting her in the eye.

" _Yeah."_ Dad sighed. _"And you're sure about this? After everything-_ "

" _Yes._ " Mom said it so simply, with no hesitation.

"...no..."

"Yes."

" _How do you think she'll react?_ "

The girl stepped into Lily's lap. "Do you feel g̛u̡il̸̴t̶y̢̕͢?"

" _Well, she'll be surprised, that's for sure. Maybe a little disappointed._ "

A nod.

"Good." A small smile, her hands on either side of Lily's face. "You should. You've caused them a lot of pain, Lily. Whatever they decide, just accept it. The sooner, the better." She pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed the end of her nose. "Trust me."

...stop stop stop stop stop...

"You're wrong."

"I'm right."

...stop stop stop it stop it stop it...

"They love me."

"They h͢ate͞ you."

...stop it stop talking just stop talking...

"They love me..."

"And you h̨u͏r͡t̷ them."

...stop talking stop talking shut up...

"All the p̸̧ai̕͘͠n..."

Shut up.

"All the t̨͢ea̡r̷͡s..."

Shut up!

"Everything is all."

SHUT UP

"Your."

SHUT UP

"Fault."


	9. Chapter 9

"All your fault."

Hurt. Pain. Tears. All your fault. XXXX XX. Hate you. Crazy. Defective. Blight. All your fault. XXXX XX. Hate you. Pain. Crazy. Blight. Hurt. pain. Defective. Tears. All your fault. XXXX XX. Hate You. Hurt. Hurt. hurt. Crazy. All your fault. Defective. Defective. Blight. XXXX XX. Hate you. crAzy. Pain. Tears. Tears. Hur7. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. XXXX XX. Hate you. A11 your fault. Pain. Hurt. Blight. def3c7ive. all your fault. Tears. XXXX XX. HATE YOU. XXXX XX. Hate you. aLL yOur faU1t. Hurt. CRAZY. pain. hUrT. deFec7IVE. XXX3 XX. HaTE yoU. all YOUR fau1t. Crazy. Tears. All your fault. ALL YOUR FAULT.

All

crazy. d3fective. XXXX XX. HATE YOU. hUR7. teArs. b1iGHT. aLl yOUr fAUL7. Pain. All your fault. XXXX XX. hate you. Pain. PAIN. paIn. PAin. pain. Crazy. XXXX X3. Hate you. All your fault. DeFEC7ive. TearS. pain. HURT. CraZy. B1ight. Crazy. XXXX XX. haTE yOu. All your fault. Pain. Tears. Defective. Hurt. Crazy. XXXX XX. Hate you. Hurt. 73ars. defective. blight. 1XXX XX. Hate you. B1IGHT. Def3ctive. Crazy. pAiN. All your fault. Crazy. Pain. hur7. Tears. crazy. All your fault. Hurt. Defective. DeFeCtIvE. Blight. Hurt. Tears. XXXX XX. HATE YOU. all your fault. XXXX XX. Hate you. All your fault. XXXX XX. Hate you.

Y̴o͞ur  
͝  
XXXX̀ ̸XX͜. h̷át̀e you҉. ͏a̕l̵l͏ ̡your f̕a̢ult́.̶ X̸X̨X͘X̕ ̕XX̨. ̡H̸A̛TE ̶YO̷U̷.̶ AL̀L̶ ͘YO͜UR ̷F̧A̢UL͏T͟.͞ ͠XX̶X̀X X̨X. H͟aTè ̢YóU. ̢A͏LL ̨y̢ou͠r̷ ͝fau͝ĺt.̧ All͠ YOU͞R̢ ͠f͢au̴lt.͏ X̶XX͝X XX͡. H̷ate͡ ͞Y͏O̡U.̕ Al̀l̶ yơur fa̴ùlt.͢ XX̵X͝X͏ XX.͏ ͞Ha͞te ͜y҉ou͝.̀ XX͜X͜X͝ XX. Hate̸ ͝y̵o̵u.͜ ̴A̷ll ̀your fault.̢ XX̵XX͏ XX. H͠ate yo̕u.̕ ͢A̡ll y҉our fa͡ùlt̨.̢ XXX͟X ̵XX.̵ Hat͘e̢ ͘y̧ou͜.̴ A͜l̕ĺ y҉o̢u̡r ͠fault͜.̀ ͞A͝1̕1 ̧y̶o͝ur҉ ̡f̀a̧ult̴.͜ Ál͟l̷ y͠o͝ur ͝f͞aųlt͡.͏ 1͢XX̵X̷ XX. ̢H͡a7̛3̕ ̵yo͡u. All̢ ͏y̢o̡u̢r f̸a͠ult.̕ ̧X̴X̀XX͠ XX́. h͜Ate Y҉Où. XX͟XX͡ X͏X͡.̕ ̴H͡ate ̡y͘o͞ù. ̢XXXX̛ X̢X͡.̶ H͝ate you͡. XX͟XX͝ ̢XX̵.̨ ̡H̨a҉t͞e͝ ́y͘ou͢.͜ ̷All ͞y̵O̢U̢r fAUlt. XX͜X҉X͜ X̕X.̛ H̢ate̴ ̷yo͝u. all your f͡a͡uLT. ̛a̕ll̀ y̸our̢ f̷aul͟Ţ.͜ all yoưr f͏a͘u̷lt.҉ All͝ your f͝a͢uĺt.́ ͝A̸l̷l̷ y͢our ͠fa͟u̶lt͘.҉ Al͢l̸ ̸y̧our ̀f́a͘ųlt.͝ A̛ll͝ ̛ýo̕ur͏ ͡f̕ault.͟ ̧Al͜l̛ y͝ou͢r̶ f͞a̸ul͏t. ͜A҉l͠l͢ your̨ ͡f͡a̴ult.

F͏au̷͏l͟҉̶t͝.̀

̡A͢l̸̀l̕͢ ̡͘y͜͜o͢u͏͞r̢̕͠ ̧̨f̶̸a̵̡ul҉t͘.̛͢ ̨Ą͡͠l̴͜͝l̶̛͝ ͡yo̧̕u̶͢r ҉̢f̴́a͘͠u̵l̸̛̀t͞. ͏̨A̵͠l҉̀l̕ ̡̨̛you̡͟͝ŗ ̕f̵a̴̛͠u̡͢l͜t̷̀͡.̶͟ ҉A̶͘͡l̸l̸̵͡ ̨̀͟yo͏̀͢ưr̡͘ ́̕͜f͢͟ą͟uĺ͢t̨̡̛. ̶À̢l͟͝ļ̸͜ ̛y̛óu̡r ̷̡́f͝au̷̕l̛̀t.̨ ̵̀A̸l͝͞l̸ ͞y͠o̴͠ù̸r͘͏ ҉f͏̀a͞u̸l̨̧t͡.́͏ ̛A͘͢l̸̶l̷̢ ̶y҉o̡̕͘ur͟ ̸f͘͢a̢ù͡͞l̡͜͜t̶̵.̡ ̧A̛͢l͠l ̵y̷ờu҉r͏̢ ̴̧fa͜ųļ͜t҉̸͟.͢ A̢l̴̷l̨ ́̀y̕o͡͡u͢r͏͏ ͞f̴̴̡a̧u͢l̴̷t͘.̡͜͝ ̷A͏lļ͡ ́y̸̛̛o͏͡u̶͠r f͏̸͠a̴u̶l͡͞͞t.̷̕͝ ̵́̕À̴l̴̶l̴͝ ̵͜҉y̷̕o͜ư̡r̵̛ ̷͢fa͏́͝u͢l̶t̸͘. ̸́A͜l̛͜͡l͏ ͜͝y̕͘o̷ưr ̕͟͠f̸̵aúl̡̕t̨̕.̨̧ ̡͝Àl҉́l̡ y̶̨͡ơ͏u̡͢r̸̵ fa͘͝͡u̷ĺ͡t.̸ ̷͡A̡͞ll͜͜ ̡̕yo̸͘u̵̷r̷ ͢fa̴͠u̵͠l҉͏t̷́.̷̧͢ ̡̕Al͜l̀͟ yơu̧r̴ ̧̛͞f͘͠a͘͘uļt́. ̸̕̕A̵̢l̴̴̶l̡̀ ́̀͡y̴̛o̵͏u̵͘r͞ ̕͜f͡a̡u̷l̀̀҉t͞.҉̷̨ ̷̡̕A̷̢̛ĺ̵͡l͡ ̡̛̀y̸͟o̧҉u̴r̡͟ ̷faųl̸t҉͏.͜ ͘A͏̕l͜l̨̛̀ ͘yo҉̶ư͘͝r͝ f̴a͟͢uļ̢͠t.̸̨ ̷̨A̸l̨ĺ͡ ́̕͢y͘͡o̶̢ur͟ ̀f̷̸͞a̷̵u͏̨l̕t͟.̧͢ ͟Al̡̕l̶ ͏̧y̢o̸ứ͡r̨͟͏ ̸f́a̢ú̸lt̕͏.̨́̕ ̨͏À̡l̢͘l̢̛͞ ̸̨͞yo̧̡ư͠r̡̀ f͟͠au̕l̵t̕.̶̢͢ ̛A͝l͜l̛͘ ̀yơ͡͡u҉̴ŕ̵ f͠͞a͡u̸̶͞l̶̡t̶̸͡.̷̨ ̧́A͝ĺ͘͠l̴̀ ͘y̶ǫ͝u̸͞r f̧̀ą͢u̢l͟͠t̴͡.̀͢ ͠A͞l̶l̀͟͠ ̸̨͡y̸̸͢ò̶u̧͞r͝ ̛f͟ąult̡. A̷l̕͞ĺ̛ ̕y̵͝oùr͟ ̢f̸̴͜aul̶͡t͘.̷͞ ̴̢Al̵l̸ ͠ý̨o͏̶̛u̵r͠ ̛́f͏҉a̵͝͡u̸̸l̸̷t̵. ҉̶Al̢͜l̕͝ ͠yoù͞r̷ ̸̢́f̷͞au̷҉lt҉̢.͘ ̧A̷̕l͢l y͘o̡͘͜ur͢͜͟ ͢f̴̢͟áu̢l҉̢t.͠ ̀A̛͠l͢l̶͢ yo͠u̕r ̴̧͜f̧͝aùlt̀͟.́ ̶̛À͝ĺ͟l̨͞͡ ̶̛y͠óur f́̀͡a̸u̴l̴t͞҉͞.͘͠ ̨͡À͞ll҉ ̵͟͠yo͟ư̸͟r҉ ͞fa̕͝u͠l̛̀͜t́.҉ ҉̸͡A͢͏͠l̀́l̸ y̛ou͠r ̀͘f̢aú͏l̀͡t.̷̨ ̸A̴ll͏̨͡ ͡y̢ơ҉u̴r͞ ͜f̶a̶̢͝u̵l͡͞t.́͏ ̶̧̨A̶̧ĺ̕͞ĺ̛ ͘͏y̴̛҉o͠ur̨̀ ̵f̴̸͡ą̸҉ų́́lt̴̛͘.̛́͝ ̨A̕l̷̨͢l̡͡ ͏͝y͡͏o̷͘͝u̷r ́͠f̵a̵̸͡u͘lt̨.

͞A̡̢l̷̛͘l̵ ̧͝ý̕o̡͠u̶̕r̸̕ ͟҉f̵̨̕a҉͏ù̡l͟t́͝҉.̛͡  
͢҉  
A̶͠l̛l ̢yớur̴͘ ̴f͞a̕͘͠ul̀͢t.̨̡͡  
̛͝  
A͘l͘͝l̢͠ ̕҉̴y̶̕ó̵u̶r̢̀ f͞a̴ù̷̡l͟t̶͟.

̡͡A̧l̨͡l̶ ҉̴y͘o͝u̶̢ŗ͘̕ ̵̀f̨̛à̡u҉͜l̡̀t.̴̨  
͏̡͏  
͞͏Alļ ͝y͏̵ou͞҉r f̴a̴̢ul͞t̴͟.̸

Á̷1̶̧1̨ ̷͜͝y̛o͜͟͠u̸r f͘͟a̢̢͞u͢͟l̷t.̶͞  
͡͝  
҉͞͝A͏̶1̷1̴͟ ̴ỳ͢ou̧r̛͢ ̀f̨͠a͜ų̸͞l̡͏t.̵̷̨

̨̡A͘͠1͢1͠ ̵͠y̢o̶̢͟u̧͜r̶̕ ̷̨͝f͘͝a͡͝u҉͢l̨̢t̕.̷͡

͜A͟͞1̷̢1̢́͡ ̴y̵̢o̷u̵̴r̕͜͡ f͏a͝u͞l̴͏t͢.̵̨

҉҉A1̶͏1́ y̶̨ou͘r҉ ̷̀f́au͝l̵͘t.  
͜  
̷̷͜A̢͞1̕͞͠1 ́yo͞ų̸ŕ͜ ͠f̕a͠҉͝u̴l͜͟ţ͏́.͘  
̕…  
̕  
A͢L͞L͞  
̵

͜҉͠  
̀Y͢O͏U͟͞R̵  
̀͠  
̵̀…̷͏  
̀͘  
̢͟FA̴̡̢ULT̸̀͢

…

…

…

"It's all your fault, Lily."


	10. Chapter 10

A burst of static.

Lily awoke to darkness, lying on her side, her mind in a fog.

Did the power go out?

Her eyes adjusted. She was facing an unfamiliar wall. There was an end table. A lamp. Pictures. A door. No, two doors. She didn't recognize any of it.

...Where was she?

A massive weight stuck to her, holding her down. She groaned, her arm moving out, flopping numbly to the soft, smooth surface below. She tried to grip, to pull herself forward, but each attempt was unsuccessful. Her fingers wouldn't move right and she couldn't get a hold on anything. She was too tired.

Wait, why did she feel so tired?

No, she could figure that out later. She wanted to get up. So she tried again.

And again.

And again.

Where was she?

It hurt to move.

She had to go.

Go where?

It was so hot.

She tried again.

Something from behind wrapped around her, pinning her arms, pulling her back, holding her against something different.

Something soft.

Something warm.

A heartbeat.

A person.

Lily gasped, her mind blanking and instinct taking over. She tried to kick and scratch. Her muscles ached, crying out, begging for her to stop. Her struggling only encouraged her captor, their strength seeming to grow. So she tried to whine, yell, scream. Each caught in her throat, coming out as a groan.

A hand appeared. Were they going to muffle her? She readied to bite down.

It continued past her face, to the top of her head, the fingers gently running through her hair.

A voice.

"Shhh... It's okay, Lily. Mommy's here. Everything's okay."

The last of the fight drained from Lily's body. She went limp, her hands coming to rest against the one Mom kept around her. "Mm-"

"Mommy's here, sweetie." Mom. Mom's voice. Right? Yeah, that was hers. Yes. Good. Her fingers never slowed. A few strands of hair fell, burning against Lily's face. "I'm right here. I've got you. It's okay. Everything's okay."

Her words soothed the panic away, and Lily's heart slowed. "Wh- Where..."

"Shhh... It's okay. We're at home. We're in bed in my and your father's room."

"Oh." She paused. "Why?"

"You don't remember?"

"N-" The world tilted, images flooding her mind. Rain. Wind. A man and a boy. Dr. Lopez. Mom and Dad and... a baby? Lily couldn't make sense of any of it, and she didn't want to, her attempts only making things worse. So she buried her face in a pillow with a whine. "My head hurts..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby." Mom brushed the hair away from Lily's face, tucking it behind her ears. The cool air felt good. "Do you want me to get you an aspirin?"

With another whine, Lily shook her head.

"Okay, no aspirin." Mom held her closer, kissing the back of her head. "Don't push yourself. We'll just lie here, okay?"

They did.

The pain evened out. Lily pulled her face out of the stifling pillow, specks of light and colour dancing through her vision. Time seemed nonexistent there in the dark as she listened. To Mom's breathing. Her own. The vents humming. She didn't hear any moaning this time. She hated when she heard the moaning.

Exhale. "...Do we still have to go to Dr. Lopez's today?"

Mom hesitated. "We already went, sweetie."

"Oh. We did?"

"We did."

"Oh." She stared at nothing, her hand warming the cool, empty space next to her. An inhale, and her nose filled with the smells of Mom and- "...Dad?"

"What was that, sweetie?"

"Dad," she repeated.

Mom started to stroke her hair again, and Lily felt her eyelids get heavy. "He's sleeping on the couch. He didn't want his coughing to wake you up."

"Oh." The couch, the living room, the- "Is the front door locked?"

"Yes. You checked it before-" Mom hesitated. "You checked it. It was locked."

Something about Mom's reply didn't sound right, but Lily's doubts fell back into the soupy mess that was her thoughts. "Okay," she managed. A pause. "And the backdoor?"

"Locked, too." Lily could hear the smile in her voice. "And before we went to bed, your father checked again, and I checked behind him."

"...Were they locked?"

"They were locked."

"Okay."

…

Mom swallowed. "I love you, Lily."

"I love you, too, Mommy," she managed. Mom's heart skipped a beat, and Lily _barely_ realized what she had said. When was the last time she called her 'Mommy?' She couldn't really remember, and didn't want to. Remembering hurt too much. It didn't matter anyway, did it?

"And even though your father isn't here to say it, he loves you, too."

"I know."

…

…

…

Exhale. "Is the front door locked?"

"It's locked, honey."

"And the back door?"

"It's locked, too." Another kiss, this one lingering. Mom inhaled, letting it out slowly. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

The night dragged on, the silence exerting it's pressure. Mom's hand eventually stopped. Her breathing evened out and her soft snores followed. Lily tightened her grip on her as best she could, moving their hands to her own chest. She felt safe. At ease.

They loved her, she reassured herself. They would never leave her. Everything was okay, and everything would _be_ okay. They would never abandon her. They would never get rid of her. They would do anything for her.

They loved her.

She loved them.

…

But she couldn't help thinking _something_ was her fault.


End file.
